


Crash

by JetLag



Category: The Hobbit RPF
Genre: Car Accidents, Friendship, Gen, Hurt Aidan, Hurt Richard, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 06:54:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 27,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8318176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JetLag/pseuds/JetLag
Summary: A camping trip with two friends takes a turn no one had expected.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really sorry for my poor english. I'm not a native speaker and I hope you'll forgive my mistakes.

Life is fragile, isn't it? You may not think so, until you really feel it. That is for example when you're driving down the road somewhere in the outbacks of New Zealand with one of your friends on the passengers' seat and the next moment your car is snuggling against a tree with the engine steaming.

 

It may take a while until you realize what has happened here, especially when you cannot really recall, if there had been a rock in the middle of the road or a deer or anything else you just wanted to avoid. But obviously instead of hitting whatever stood in your way, the car decided to go crazy and take a few turns and somersaults until it was stopped by a large oak tree. Well done, Armitage, well done.

 

Checking yourself for injuries turnes out to be rather difficult since you a) cannot say, if you had been unconcious for a while and b) you're unable to move a lot in a car that has become much smaller due to the impact on that tree. But you take it as some kind of mercy, that you don't feel too much pain. Okay, your head hurts a bit when you're moving it and your left leg is on fire, but other than that you seem to be allright. Thank god for that. But then you keep thinking that you are missing something and that is when – with some effort – you turn your head to your left and see it – see him. And suddenly you don't know if you've just ended someone's life with one single – an apparently very wrong – move. You just see, that the person that is your friend is just slumbed limply in the seatbelt of the passengers' seat, deathly pale and not moving. …

 


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I decided to continue with the story. Thank you so much for all your kudos.  
> Again, I'm really sorry, my english isn't better. Please let me know my worst mistakes ...

They had planned it as a camping trip. The weekend was promised to be a beautiful one, sunny, but already slightly cooler for it was already the middle of may. Two perfect days to get to know the country better, they were currently living in. They were looking for a challenging hiking route in a beautiful landscape, preferably lonely, because they weren't up for too much company. Only that breathtaking nature, a couple of guys and a couple of beers, well deserved after the strains of filming an the strains of the tour.

 

But when Martin heard about the hiking plans he decided that his feet hurt already from the constant walks in his hobbit prosthetics and backed off. Neither could Graham join them, because he had hurt his arm during filming. Then the weekend before the trip Luke got a little bit distracted by meeting a girl in some random bar. Out of the sudden he was convinced that the large brunette would turn out to be the love of his live, which was why he had to meet her at least on a weekly basis. And of course their trip seemed secondary compared to a probably life changing date... Ten little soldiers, Richard thought, though they had only been six guys from the beginning. And now only three were left.

 

Then Saturday morning came and Richard, already in his hiking boots and with a very excited expression on his face, stood at the front door of Dean's house, waiting for the blond Kiwi to step out. Slightly impatient, he waited at least five minutes until he used the door bell to get Dean's attention. It took another three minutes for Dean to answer and when Richard saw his face with the running nose and the red rimmed eyes, he knew why.

 

„So you won't join our little tour either, will you?“ It wasn't a question. He just stated the obvious.

 

Dean answered with an enormous sneeze and some snore left on his upper lip. Richard frowned, a little bit disgusted, and hurried to assure Dean that it would be the best for him to get back to bed, drink lots of fluids and keep the germs for himself.

 

Slightly annoyed by the sudden change of plans he returned to the car where already one – and obviously the only one – passenger was seated. Aidan.

 

Alright, this was definitely not according to his plans. A camping weekend with Aidan wasn't exactly what he had been dreaming of. Don't get him wrong, He really liked the other man as a colleague and a good friend among the others. But spending a weekend with no one but Aidan would probably turn out as … he couldn't decide what the right word would be … annoying? exhausting? boring? At least it would be weird, that was already clear as day.

 

He and Aidan had nothing in common. Aidan was young. Twelve years younger to be exact. Always happy and cheerful, like a little puppy. It was something Richard could only roll his eyes about. Someone with an attitude like this could not know very much about life, could he? What does that boy know? Life had obviously always been kind to him, otherwise he would be much more skeptic or maybe even cynical.

 

Aidan was often fatuous. He along with Dean always made smart comments and used to play childsh pranks on the other cast members. He was interested in … well, Richard didn't really know in what the boy was interested in. He considered in nothing in particular. He seemed to like music, but Richard had no idea what kind of music. He seemed to like sports, but while Richard preferred a good workout at the gym or at least half an hour of swimming, Aidan enjoyed racket balls like tennis or squash. Did he like books? Richard considered no. Aidan didn't look like a reader to him. It was told, that he hadn't even read The Hobbit when he auditioned for it – something Richard would never understand. And how was he supposed to? By all means, it was a children's book, short, quick and easy to read. Not exactly hard work.

 

Richard himself had not only read The Hobbit but also The Lord of the Rings and The Simarillion, just to be sure and to get Tolkien right. Aidan on the other hand had no idea of Tolkien and he didn't even bluff.

 

Richard also knew that Aidan wasn't really a theater guy. In fact, he'd never seen a play on stage until he hit drama school. Richard for his part grew up with theaters and really knew his Shakespeare. What on earth would the both of them talk about on that three hour drive, that six hour hiking tour and an endless long evening without the two other guys? He was facing two days of either awkward silence or strained conversation. This weekend would probably become the longest of his entire life. Boy if he only had a clue …

 

When Richard returned to the car he was met by a questioning glance. „Where's Dean?“ Aidan asked, frowning.

 

„He's not coming. He decided to get a cold overnight and rather stay at home.“

 

„Oh.“ Aidans face fell. „Soooo“, he slowly began, „it's just us...“

 

„Yep”, Richard confirmed, „it's just us.“ Richard puffed out some air. „Do you want to chicken out as well?“

 

„What? No, of course not. I mean, we already rent the car, booked the hat, so … yeah, yeah, it's fine. We'll get along, won't we?“

 

Richard's eyebrow arched until it nearly met his hairline. Aidan also seemed to feel slightly uncomfortable facing a whole weekend with none but his “uncle”. So they finally did have something in common.

 

He muttered something that sounded like „sure, we will”, entered the car and got the engine started. „Alright, buddy, let's go.”

 


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your support. I was really happy about your comments and kudos. I hope you'll enjoy the next chapter.

So, awkward silence it is, Richard thought. They were driving for like half an hour and none of the two men were actually talking. A few sentences about the weather like “still beautiful outside”, “but it's already getting cold at night”, “we are lucky, the sun is shining”, “yes, we are” were dropped now and then and after that it was silence again.

 

Richard sighed softly. This seemed to turn out as the most horrible weekend during his time in New Zealand. They should have canceled the whole thing, when it was clear, that neither Graham nor Martin could or wanted to join them. His last chance to back out would have been when finally Dean had dropped the ball – but he'd missed it. Damn.

 

“Uhhmm … could you stop for once, please?” Aidans voice cut through his thoughts.

 

“Why? Do you have to pee?” Richard tried hard not to sound annoyed. He didn't approve too many breaks on whatever journey he made. He liked nonstop flights as well as nonstop drives. He actually resigned his second cup of coffee this morning to make sure his bladder would not spoil his plans.

 

“What? No. But I need my backpack and it's in the trunk.”

 

“What do you need?” Richard realized that he sounded like a police officer, interrogating his suspect. But he wanted to be sure, that this stop wasn't actually useless.

 

Aidan answered with an irritated look on his face. “I have brought some CDs. I thought some music would lighten the spirit. Plus I'm keeping my water bottle in it. So, if it's not too much to ask ...” Aidans slight sarcasm could not be missed.

 

Richard rolled his eyes, but pulled over eventually. “Don't take too long. I want to start hiking before midnight.”

 

Aidan just let out some air, while he went behind the car. He started rifling through the contents of the trunk, making Richard cringe inwardly. He had figured out a very sophisticated storage-system with beer, juice and water on the left side, the backpacks and the sleeping bags on the right, a cooling bag with food in the middle and on top some blankets in case of the exspected cold night. And now messy Aidan was messing with his system. He threw the blankets and their jackets on the backseats, took a curious look into the cooling box just to retrieve two sausages.

 

“Want one?” he asked Richard with an exited smile on i´his face.

 

“No, of course not. And these sausages are actually meant for dinner. You're not supposed to eat these now. Put them back.” He scolded his cast mate like he was a little child.

 

But Aidan laughed it off. “Oh, come on, Rich. Don't be such a grinch. You could feed an entire army with the food you've piled in that box. If there's one sausage missing no one will ever notice, because no one is here but us. Just imagine it as Dean's sausage.”

 

That last sentence was already spoken between two large bites. Aidan was chewing on said sausage ans moaning with pleasure. “Delicious, really. You definitely should try one.”

 

Richard opened his mouth for a proper answer – and decided to close it right away. There was no use in starting a fight over a sausage, was it? But, being completely honest to himself, it was hard for him. Very hard. Richard was used to get things done in a certain way – and he didn't like it at all, when that certain way was changed, neither by some ill circumstances nor by any other human being. The Problem was: Aidan never took the way Richard thought would be best. In Richards opinion the ways choosen by Aidan were mostly time twisting, rugged and rather bumpy.

 

They were back on the road. “What do you have”, Richard wanted to know when Aidan was fumbling with the CDs he had retrieved from his backpack. He expected the worst.

 

“Well, I have The Doors, The Beatles and one with John Lennon only, Tom Waits, Brian Ferry and something for my more sophisticated cast mates: Nils Landgren. This one's kind of funky. On that Album he's playing 'Funky Abba'. I think it's absolutely great, if you like that kind of stuff.”

 

“Oh, okay.” Richard sounded surprised. “I think, I'm going with Landgren.”

 

“Good choice, my friend. Landgren it is.”

 

Silence. Again.

 

“I've tried that for once, you know?” Aidan interrupted a funky version of “The winner takes it all”.

 

“Tried what?” Richard asked absentmindedly.

 

“Playing the jazz trombone. But it' has been really hard and I never achieved anything with that bloody thing. I was really shit”, Aidan chuckled thinking of his futile attempts with the shiny instrument.

 

“And now?” Richard wanted to know, “Can you actually play something?”

 

“Guitar”, Aidan said, “cause it was easy. I was kind of an autodidact. You?”

 

“Cello and flute”, Richard admitted. “But to be honest, I hated it. I had cello lessons for at least six years and I hated every one of them. But my mom had me to go nevertheless. It was an important part of what she thought was a good education. I skipped the lessons as soon as I had the chance. And I've never touched a cello ever since.”

 

“Your mom forced you to play? Wow … Sounds like a rather stressful childhood.”

 

“Uhhhmm...”, Richard didn't really have an answer for that. Stressful? Maybe. Ambitious? Of course. His mother had taught him discipline, consistency and the meaning of hard work. Was that ab bad thing? He never considered it as that.

 

“I don't know”, he finally said, knowing that it sounded rather lamely. “I think she just tried to educate me well. And at least I know now, that I really hate the cello.”

 

The joke was supposed to lighten the mood, but for some reason Aidan looked a little bit irritated. He didn't lough at all.

 

“What about you?”, Richard asked not really interested but at least to keep the conversation going. “I'm sure your mom had some plans for her son ...”

 

Aidan chuckled a bit. “Yeah, .... Maybe she had … She took me to those dancing lessons, when I was seven years old. Ballroom and Latin. I mean … who does that? Who admits their son to dancing? But nevertheless I did it for ten years. Can you imagine that? Ten years? At one point, I got really competitive and truly wanted to achieve something. And obviously I wasn't that bad. I even represented Ireland. But then my parents couldn't afford a professional dancing career. That's when I hit drama school … I'm sorry, I am rambling...”

 

“No, no, it's fine”, Richard hurried to say. “I didn't know, you were a dancer.”

 

“Well, it's kind of embarrassing, isn't it? I don't like talking about it so much.”

 

“I won't tell.” Richard laughed. “But maybe dancing is worse than the cello.”

 

Aidan grimaced, but gave him an approving nod. “It definitely is. But apart from dancing my parents were kind of cool. I mean, they tried to keep me busy, getting me of the street, but I also had a lot of freedom...”

 

“Getting you off the street?”, Richard repeated, slightly amused. “Where did you grow up? The Bronx?”

 

Aidan's eyes narrowed when he was looking at Richard. “Well, for your information, I didn't grow up in a fancy neighborhood. And I didn't go to a private school. Or college.”

 

“Alright, alright”, Richard said with a little bit of irony in his voice, “I get it. You had a rough childhood and are kind of a self-made man who fought his way to fame ...”

 

“You're an idiot, Armitage”, Aidan snapped, obviously offended, and fell silent again. Without asking Richard for his preferences he changed CDs and put an early album of the Doors into the player. He yawned with his mouth wide open, folded his arms across his chest and sank a little bit deeper into his seat. He looked like he would fall asleep any time soon.

 

Richard rolled his eyes once again and let out another sigh of annoyance. It was typical Aidan. The boy had the sleeping habits of a newborn. He could fall asleep everywhere at every time. Between two takes? Aidan would sleep. After lunch? Aidan would sleep. In the middle of mirkwood when the crew had to adjust a few items? Aidan would sleep.

 

Richard considered this strange behaviour coming from too much partying during the nights. Aidan was a young man, far away from home and that was what young people were doing, right? At least young people who weren't him. Sure, Richard used to go to parties too, he simply couldn't avoid them. But he always managed to head home so early he could get a good nights sleep. But apart from that he was always more that kind of a guy who preferred a nice glass of wine with some close friends over an overcrowded room with cocktails and shots and dull conversations.

 

When Aidan yawned again and leaned his head against the side window, he casually dropped the question: “Rough night, huh? What and who kept you up all night?”

 

It was supposed to be a joke or at least some small teasing, but as soon he had the words out, he knew, he blew it. Aidan raised his eyebrows and shook his head angrily. “Are there any more prejudices to come? Maybe you should tell me so I can prepare myself a little bit... So, this is really what you think I'm doing, right? That I'm out and about all the time, drinking, dancing, making out with some hot girls, not getting enough sleep and not taking my job seriously enough to make sure I'm getting enough sleep. Am I right?”

 

Richard flinched slighty at Aidans words. Of course they've hit home, but there would be no way he could admit that. “I didn't say, you don't take the job seriously.”

 

“No, but that's what you think. That I'm acting like an irresponsible kid.” Aidan turned his head to look out of the window and to avoid the sight of Richard.

 

“O come on, Aidan, don't act like that little kid now. I mean, you do sleep an awful lot during the day... there has to be a reason for that. You have to admit that you are a young man who likes to have fun. I just put two and two together.”

 

“You don't know me at all, do you? You know nothing, Armitage, and yet you dare to judge me … like you know everything...” The voice of the normally cheerful young Irishman grew angrier with every spoken word. “You're such a hypocrite, Richard.”

 

Richard swallowed hard. Sure, Aidan was right. He didn't know anything from his young cast mate. He had his assumptions. But....

 

“I'm pretty sure you do have an opinion about me, am I right? And you don't know me either...” It was just easier to go offensive than to hide in the defense.

 

“You wanna know what I think of you?” Aidan now glanced directly at Richard. “Okay, I'll tell you. You are an excellent actor, extremely disciplined, hard working but also very talented. Yet you lack a little bit of self confidence. You're still having some doubts that you're really good enough, not only for this job but for any job you're taking. To be honest, this is just bullshit, because you're fucking brilliant, but I guess this is why you didn't unpack your bags for three weeks after your arrival in New Zealand. You are always well prepared because you can't stand the thought of something unforeseen happening. This makes you appear a little bit stiff to other people. You do not easily make friends but when you do you are a great and loyal friend to the people you care about. On the other hand you cannot stand to be with people who do not fit in your concept of life … people like me who are messy, a catastrophe in organizing things, maybe a little naive and definitive less educated. You find them annoying or you even despise. And that makes you some kind of an arrogant jerk. But apart from that, yeah, well ...you're also kind of … SHIT!!! WATCH OUUUUTT.......”

 


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry that it took me so long to update this story. I promise, it's not abandoned. It was only real live that was so busy and kept me from writing. I really hope that some of you are still reading and still enjoying the story.

Richard had no idea if he had been unconscious. He also didn’t know, how much time had gone by, since Aidans sickening cry and the squeaking tires had reached his eardrums. He only knew, that the car had made some quite unexpected turns, that made his stomach churn. Then there was an impact against something solid. Then nothing.   
  
When he opened his eyes and managed to focus, the first thing he took in was the sight of the windshield that looked exactly like the screen of his iPhone after it had hit the rocky floor on a filming location. Thankfully the many fragments of the security glass were still held in place by some miracle. The next thing he noticed was the airbag hanging limply in front of him from the steering wheel. That would maybe explain the throbbing pain behind his eyes and especially his nose. The bloody thing must have been exploded right in the middle of his face. Merely out of instinct his hand went to the door handle and his legs and upper body followed the movement. He stopped immediately. A blinding pain shot through his left leg from the knee up to the hip right into his brain and left him gasping. Holy Fuck. Panting and wincing he sank back into his seat, feeling cold sweat pouring out of his pores. Something with his leg was definitely wrong. Moving seemed to be out of question so far. Plus another thing worried him. When he’d tried to open the door, it hadn’t moved even an inch.   
  
Despite the still throbbing leg and nose he tried to focus. Think, Richard, think. Alright. Help. Professional help was needed. ASAP. A firetruck with proper tools to cut him out. An ambulance to take care of this fucking leg. There was only one little problem: His phone with its broken screen was currently lying in an apple store in the city center of Wellington, waiting to be repaired. Maybe Aidan would have his phone in reach …? As soon as the thought left his brain another one kicked in and hit him like a high speed train: Aidan.

 

Aidan was with him in the car – and yet he hadn’t heard even the tiniest noise from his co-driver. Slowly and carefully to avoid any jostling of his hurting limbs he tried to move his head and upper body to his left side – and wished he hadn’t. Slumped in his seat only held up by the seatbelt was his … what? Friend? Cast-mate? Co-Star? Blood ran over his deathly pale face and started soaking the scarf that was wrapped loosely around the other man’s neck. He made no noise. He didn’t stir. He didn’t even seem to breathe. Richard heart skipped a beat and he felt a heavy lump in his throat, threatening to choke him. Ever so careful he reached for Aidans neck. Two fingers slipped beneath the scarf, trying to find something. Panicking when he felt nothing, he started to dig harder. There, thank god. It was the faintest beating he found under his fingertips, but it was definitely there. Richard let out a sigh of relieve. Aidan was alive – at least for now. But while this weak an somehow erratic beating gave him hope on one hand, he felt the urgency to call for help on the other hand.

 

“Aidan? Aid, can you hear me? You need to wake up, buddy, come on...” Without moving his own body to much, he tried to wake up his dark haired cast-mate. When words didn't work, he gave him a slight tap on the cheek. And another one. A little harder the third time. A soft shaking on the shoulder. And again and again calling his name. Louder. At last yelling combined with the frantic shaking of Aidans upper body, then listening to his own breaking voice “Aidan, wake up. Please, wake up. Don't do this ….”

 

When he still got no reaction, despair hit him like a truck. He was alone in this, left all by himself. No. Worse: He was alone with an obviously gravely injured person that he was responsible for. The task of saving both of their lives was all on him. But what could he do? Considering the whole situation, it wasn't much. He had no phone, nor had he an idea where Aidans phone was nor could he get out of the car. Even if this bloody door would open, his probably broken leg would make it absolutely impossible to walk anywhere. Plus, they were driving on a kind of lonesome road when the accident had happened. And to make things worse, he must have swung the steering wheel so badly, that the car went completely off the road, so it would possibly not be seen by any other cars that were driving by. The only hope he had was Peter and their colleagues. Dean would probably miss them on Sunday evening at the earliest. Peter would ask questions on Monday morning. Dean at least knew where they were heading to. They would be searching for them by cars, maybe by helicopters. They would find them. They would bring help. They would save them. He was sure of that. The only problem was: If the clock in the car was still working, then it was only around midday on Saturday. That made minimum 48 hours until any help would arrive. 48 hours of waiting. 48 hours of pain. 48 hours of constant fear. Richard was swallowing hard when he realised, that the only thing he actually _could_ do was to pray to some kind of god that in 48 hours he would still be sitting beside Aidan – and not a dead body.   
  


 


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your comments and kudos. I am so happy, you like the story :-) I really hope, you also will enjoy the next chapter, too. And I hope there are not too many mistakes in language, grammar and orthography ...

Richard felt his heartbeat speeding up. He felt his breath become a heavy panting. He felt sweat pouring down his brow and neck and realized, that it was sheer panic that took its toll on him. With all the self-discipline he could afford he tried to control his breathing and calm himself down. He could win nothing, when he panicked, that was for sure. He'd rather try to figure out a way to survive this whole thing.

 

_Come on, Armitage, you can do this._

 

The key, that was clear as day, would be Aidan's mobile, which couldn't be too far away from Aidan. He would never leave his phone out of reach, would he? He was a young man, right? Smartphones were attached to their palms, weren't they? And that would mean, that the phone would be either on Aidan himself or in the backpack that was still lying in the foot room beside Aidan's long legs. Slowly with very careful movements he turned his body with the protesting leg to his left. Reluctantly he reached for the pockets of Aidan's Jeans. Keys in the left one. A lighter and a few coins in the right one. No phone. A pack of cigarettes in the pocket of his shirt. Richard shook his head when he found the cigarettes, for he deeply detested that unhealthy habit of his young cast-mate and didn't stop to express his disapproval, whenever he saw him with a fag. Not that Aidan would be impressed by his constant scolding. He used to lough at Richard and went on smoking anyway... But smokes apart: still no phone.

 

That left him with Aidan's backpack. He had to lean over really far to reach the wanted item. He had to stretch out his arms. He had to put weight on his injured leg – and cried out as loud as he could, when he did. He felt the bile rise in his throat. No, no, no, he couldn't throw up in here. Net here in the car, where they probably would spend the next one or two days and hopefully not longer. The stench would be unbearable at least. He breathed heavily through his nose to fight back the urge to vomit.

 

_Well done, Armitage, well done. And now: focus on the task at hand._

 

Panting and sweating he managed to grip the fabric of the backpack and tried to lift it. It was heavy. Way heavier then he had imagined. What the hell had Aidan put in this thing? Richard realized, he lacked the strength to get it up. Shit. Shit. Shit. He closed his eyes, groaned aloud, and lent back in his seat.

 

_Oh, dear god, Armitage. You cannot give up now. This bag is right beside you. You just have to take it and find Aidan's bloody phone. It has to be in it, hasn't it?_

 

Nevertheless it took him several minutes to get his strength back. Minutes he spent with scolding himself to be such a wuss.

 

_On three, Armitage. On three …_

 

On seventy-five he reached over again. On eighty-eight he had dragged the bag halfway over to his side of the car. On ninety-seven he had it between his legs. On one hundred and three he had finally managed to lift it up on his seat and started rifling through Aidan's belongings.

 

The first thing, that caught his glimpse, let him nearly cry out with relieve. A water bottle. 1.5 liters of wonderful clear and sparkling water. That bottle was there to make sure, they would not die of dehydration. At least he wouldn't. If Aidan was about to stay unconscious the whole time, there would be no way to get the water down his throat without choking the poor guy.

 

_Don't go there, Armitage. He will be fine. He has to. Now, back to the backpack._

 

Two more items got his attention. They were two plastic boxes, a rather big one and a smaller one, original tupperware. Richard couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of the trademark. Those boxes were certainly gifts from Aidan's mother to her son. No Twenty-Something would ever buy original tupperware boxes by himself, would he? Richard opened the first one carefully and stared at a large banana, an apple, some grapes, two kiwis and a little knife to cut them in half. Fruit! Fresh fruit! Richard started smiling broadly all over his face. And his face almost split in half, when he saw the contents of the slightly smaller box. A large sandwich, complete with goat cheese, lettuce and tomato, and three chocolate bars, supposedly one for him, one for Dean and one for Aidan himself. Bingo! Aidans fear of starvation could save their lives. He suppressed the urge to bite in one of the chocolate bars right away and hurried to close the boxes again.

 

_Okay, what else?_

 

Beneath the boxes was a neatly folded pile of clothes. A spare pair of jeans, a new t-shirt, a jumper, new socks and a fresh pair of boxers. Then three books. How long was Aidan thinking they would be on this trip? Richard asked himself. Three books? One had the title “City of thieves” from the author David Benioff.

 

_Never heard of that._

 

Then Nick Hornby's “A long way down”.

 

_Was that the one with the four suicide-guys?_

 

And last but not least: The most beautiful hiking tours of New Zealand's north.

 

_Well, that was kind of needless now, wasn't it?_

 

His glimpse also caught an empty plastic bag, probably to stuff away the dirty laundry, in addition to a satchel with Aidan's toothbrush, toothpaste, floss, shampoo and shower gel in it as well as a few band-aids and a blister pack with painkillers. Richard immediately took out the latter to keep them in reach. If it would really take two days or longer to get rescued from their unpleasant situation, those little white pills would probably become his best friends.

 

After his fruitless search in the backpack he rummaged through every zip-locked or velcroed side pocket he found. There was an old bus ticket from Dublin, a chewing gum, a package of paper tissues and obviously Aidan's wallet. Just out of curiosity he took it out and went through it's contains. Just like he had expected, Aidan's wallet was stuffed with an awful lot of things, that documented half of the life of the irish man.

 

He found 20 bucks in banknotes and another five in coins. Then a credit card as well as a debit card from the Ulster Bank in Dublin, an ID card with a silly photo on it and a driver's license with an even sillier one. How old had Aidan been on this picture? 16 years? Maybe 17? He looked very young and boyish with the huge smile on his face and the happy glow in his eyes. Kind of cute, Richard had to admit.

 

Then there was the card of the public library in Wellington, issued only two days after their first arrival in Wellington. Richard tried to recall that day so many months ago. They got a tour around the set, got a welcome package with everything they needed to know and had the afternoon free. For he did not have an own flat back then and was still tired from the jet-lag, he had spent the entire afternoon in his hotel-room, asleep. He knew that Martin and Graham went to the city, Ken wanted to take a nap, too and Jimmy had gone to look for apartments. He had no clue what Aidan had done. Hadn't he been with Rob? But to be honest he didn't remember much of his cast-mates from these very first days and weeks in New Zealand. Everything had been new, everything had been exiting and kind of nerve-wracking … he had been so self-conscious and nervous, he hadn't even unpacked his luggage for the first three weeks, just because he'd feared that they would fire him right away. There had been so much on his mind, he couldn't really care for the others. But anyway: As it seemed, while he, Richard, had been asleep and been dead to world, Aidan had gone to visit the library. Who would have considered him to be a reader?

 

Another card was from Aidan's health insurance for New Zealand, right next to a monthly ticket for the trains, tubes and busses in Wellington. Hadn't he rent a car? Richard didn't know. Now his fingers carefully pulled out a folded and very tattered form – and froze. The form dated from June 2003 and was filled out in Aidan's sloppy handwriting, saying that Aidan was as a possible organ donor, willing to donate everything, including corneas and skin. Richard felt his breath hitch, when he looked at the signature, the 20 year old Aidan had given to confirm his will.

 

_No, buddy, you're not doing this. Not today. Not, when I am sitting right beside you. And definitively not, when I am the one, who is responsible for your condition. I can't have your death on my shoulders._

 

Richard's gaze was glued to the young man next to him, trying so see any movement of his chest. When he saw nothing, he felt again for a pulse on Aidans neck. Weak, but still there, thank god. Relieved he put his palm on Aidan's chest to feel, if he was still breathing. Yes. Shallow, but breathing. Good. He was thankful for small mercies. He clutched the form with his sweaty and trembling hands, unable to let go.

 

_Don't be silly, Armitage. This shabby piece of paper is eight years old. It has nothing to say. Nothing. Now put it back. This is none your concern._

 

He kept the form nevertheless, but turned his attention to the other items in the wallet. There where also a lot of receipts from different stores in Wellington, London and Dublin. One from a gas station in Cork. A folded ripped out piece of a newspaper caught his special attention: he unfolded it and saw a phone number plus the words “Call me! If you like” written with a black marker all over an artikel about a play at the Abbey Theater in Dublin.

 

Then two photos: One showed Aidan in between what appeared to be his parents, sitting in a restaurant with their dishes and drinks in front of them. All three were smiling and Richard could see, where Aidan had his looks and his brilliant smile from. The boy was the spitting image of his dark haired mother.

 

Another picture showed a beautiful young woman, dark haired with large brown eyes and very delicate features. Aidan's sister? Richard had no idea, if Aidan actually had a sister. He seemed to have mentioned having a brother though. His girlfriend? Richard did not know about that either. Not that he cared, but he had always considered Aidan to be a womanizer, who hardly was dating a girl much longer than two or three weeks. But who knew.

 

The last item he found was a little pencil drawing. It showed a very cartoonesque sheep, looking rather cute and carrying tiny letters on his wool that said “Good luck in New Zealand. Love you, lil' bro.”

 

_Shit, Armitage, what have you done? What have you done?_

 


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your lovely comments and the kudos. I was really happy to learn that you enjoyed the story. I hope you forgive me the task of the following chapter ;-)

Playing a hero was easy. An action hero like the ones played by Bruce Willis, Jean-Claude van Dame or Arnold Schwarzenegger could fall off bridges, climb up skyscrapers or jump out of burning cars at 120 miles per hour without becoming hurt. Even his own characters, Lucas North in Spooks or good old Thorin Oakenshield, would fight and succeed (okay, at least until the very end, but that was another story to tell). And in a situation like his, Bruce Willis would probably just smash the side window of the car and squeeze his battered body through the teeny tiny whole like a snake. Then he would hobble around the car wrack and pry the passenger's door open with all his remaining strength, not resting until the metal gave in. Then he would drag his unconscious companion out of his seat, frantically searching for a pulse and breathing, and save his live by performing a perfectly timed CPR. When finally the medics arrived, the hero – of course seriously injured himself and only running on adrenaline – would sink to his knees and wheeze: “I'm fine, I'm fine. But you gotta save him, please...”

 

Unfortunately, Richard was no Bruce Willis. Nor was he an Arnold Schwarzenegger and not even Thorin Oakenshield. He was just Richard, and although he really – really! – wanted to get out of that fucking car and save his and Aidan's life, he yielded to the pain. Of course, as the well trained actor that he was, he could perform some stunts on his own, but most of the time he was kind of thankful, that there were always the professional stuntmen on set to take over, before things became to dangerous. And breaking a window with his bare hands and then climbing through it with a broken leg was simply out of question – on set as well as in real life.

 

_When did you become such a sissy, Armitage? You need to do something useful or otherwise you two could die here._

 

It stroke him like a sledgehammer. They actually _could_ die here. What if Dean became so ill, that he did not realize his two friends were missing? What if Peter didn't react immediately and called the police too late? And what if the rescue team did not find them in time? If they searched in the wrong area?

 

He supposed, that his chances to survive this ordeal were at least much better than Aidan's. Thanks to the other man's diligence (and hunger) he was provided with food, water and painkillers, from which he decided to wash down two, so he could concentrate on the more important things than his still throbbing leg. For three or four days he considered himself to be safe. Things only would become difficult, when he ran out of water. But Aidan? He had no idea, how bad the other ones injuries were, but the fact that he remained unconscious, certainly wasn't a good sign. What if Aidan was dying here right beside him? And he would be sitting beside a corpse? A corpse that would … oh my god, no. The very thought of what would happen to a corpse in due time let him freeze. No, no, no … that was not supposed to happen. Not to him. Not to him....

 

_Happy thoughts, Armitage. Happy thoughts. Be optimistic, at least for once._

 

But he could not bring up an adequate amount of happy thoughts. On the other hand, he could not keep this fear-mongering going, as well, for he was suddenly facing another challenge. A very urgent one. One that would never become an issue for someone like Bruce Willis. Ever. But in his case it was an issue, he had to deal with. And he had to deal with it now, because the one cup of coffee, he allowed himself to drink this morning, had gone southwards and reached bottom. Richard Armitage really had to pee.

 

It was embarrassing at best, degrading being the better word to describe it. He knew there was no way out of this. He had to pee and he had to do it here – in this car. In this car, where he would spend at least this night and probably another one, too. But despite knowing exactly, what was inevitably to come, he couldn't bring himself to … just doing it. His pride simply didn't allow it.

 

_Now, go on, Armitage. It's not that you can avoid it. At some point you will just have to do it. So let's face the fact and get over with it._

 

_No! I will not wet myself. I'm a grown-up, and grown-ups don't do that anymore._

 

_You're a grown-up in a very uncomfortable situation. You cannot avoid it._

 

_But …_

 

_Oh, shut the hell up and do it._

 

 

A part of him was grateful, that Aidan was still unconscious. Otherwise this whole situation would be much more embarrassing than it already was. Richard had never been a man, who would easily get over any flaws. Not with the flaws of other people nor his own. He was pretty unforgiving, when somebody screwed up – even when it was himself.

 

Aidan was different, he thought. The dark-haired Irishman was more or less a two-legged screw-up – and didn't seem to care at the least. He was the laid back, chilled out, carefree kind of guy. At least he seemed so. The young actor even managed to show up late at their very first day of dwarfen boot-camp and just shrugged it off. He would just smile at everybody, be nice and charming and nobody would mention it ever again. If this would have happened to him, Richard, he would scold himself for his negligence and would not be able to face anybody without blushing at least for a week, maybe longer. Sometimes he envied his young co-star for his callousness, sometimes he could just smack him for it.

 

Right now he wished to be just a little bit more relaxed. Not to overthink everything and just … yes … just to let go. But he couldn't. He cursed inwardly, when he took sight of Aidans backpack again. There was food. And water. Yes. But once he realized, that input also meant output at some point, he wasn't so keen to enjoy a meal anymore. In fact, he would try to avoid eating as long as possible. He would survive without a sandwich, wouldn't he?

 

But then it hit him. An idea, bright as a light-bulb. The tupper-ware box. Richard almost had to laugh about the very thought. The tupper-ware box of Aidan's mom would be the solution of his problem. He could just put apple, banana, grapes and kiwi in the backpack and use the box as kind of a lockable bedpan. Yes, it would be disgusting and the very thought of it made him cringe, but it would be ten times better than to pee on himself while being stuck in a car, leaving him wet and smelling. Only that he definitely had to dispose the box when this was over. Aidan's Mom would never get the bloody thing back, that was for sure. But if this little plastic container could save him from probably the most embarrassing moment in his entire life, he would happily replace it and donate the lady several others on top.

 

He soon realized that it was easier thought than done. Opening his fly in his hunched up position turned out to be a rather painful task, despite the two painkillers. Pulling out and hitting the box (only the box and not everything else) was nearly an artistic assignment. But nevertheless, he felt relieved, when the pressure finally lessened.

 

_Oh, dear lord, thanks._

 

He closed the lid carefully and put the box down in the foot well – for later use maybe. Then he tried to re-establish the order of his private parts. He imagined himself to look rather ridiculous in his awkward position with his butt lifted up, supporting his weight only with his right leg and fumbling at his still pulled out cock. It was – of course – that very moment, Aidan used to start to dry heave beside him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How about that? Aidan's waking up ...


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooner than I thought, the next chapter. I hope there are not too many mistakes ...

When Richard heard the noise he startled and literally froze in his movement pulling up his zipper. Was Aidan waking up? Quickly he turned his gaze towards his friend, realizing that Aidan's face was distorted in discomfort and agony.

 

Carefully he tapped the other one's cheek. “Aidan? Are you with me? Come on, buddy, ...” Instead of an answer, Aidan let out a loud moan, squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth together. His breathing was ragged and his head rolled from one side to the other in obvious pain.

 

“Aidan, you have to wake up and tell me, where you are hurting. Come on, kid, look at me. I know you can do this … Aidan? … Oh shit...”

 

Before Richard could even react, the intensifying moaning and dry heaving turned into a painful retching noise and Aidan threw up everything that was inside his stomach. From the sight of what covered now Aidans scarf, shirt and pants it was mostly coffee, something undefinable what could have been an apple or a pear, and of course that bloody sausage Aidan ate earlier. Richard had to turn his head away, suddenly feeling sick himself. So much for the plastic bag he had stowed so diligently in the foot well. Richard had to fight hard to keep his own nausea at bay. The stench alone plus the fact, that he was sitting next to a man covered in his own vomit made him cringe.

 

_Calm down, Richard. Breath._

 

But he couldn't, for the sour smell was overwhelming in this small car where no fresh air was coming in. This whole thing was getting worse by the second.

 

_Pull yourself together, Armitage! You have to calm down. Now **!!!**_

 

Richard could literally _see_ the three bold exclamation marks in his mind.

 

“Shit, 'm so sorry.”

 

The words were so small, Richard nearly missed them. Suppressing his own revulsion he turned his face back to Aidan, surprised to look in slightly unfocused brown eyes that were at least half open. He managed a reassuring smile while padding the other one's shoulder.

 

“Hey, hey, kiddo, you're awake. That's good. Don't be sorry... it... it's fine. I don't mind.”

 

That was a complete lie he realized soon enough, but he didn't have the heart to tell Aidan the truth right now, not when the young man just had woken and didn't seem to be completely coherent.

 

“Made a mess”, Aidan mumbled desperately. “ 've t' clean this up ... ow...” Aidan's left hand was twitching as if he was trying to lift something up but failed. His right hand was moving aimlessly in the air.

 

“Shhh, it's okay, it's okay. I'll get this, okay? Don't worry... “ Out of instinct Richard took Aidan's right hand in his own and stroked his upper arm to calm the boy down. He was deeply worried when he noticed Aidan's slurry speech and saw the confused look in his eyes. With all the self-discipline he could afford, he grapped the paper tissues and tried to clean Aidans clothes as good as he could, giving the plastic bag a new assignment as a trash can.

 

“Look, Aidan, all done. You're as good as new, see?”, he tried to joke and frowned, when he saw how weakly Aidan was trying to return his smile. “Thanks”, Aidan said between two shaky breaths, but at least he looked a little more alert this time. “Sorry, you had to do this.”

 

“It's fine, really”, Richard assured him, although it was not exactly true. He'd rather cleaned all the windows of The Shard in London than to wipe away someone's vomit.

 

“Wha' h'ppened?”

 

“You don't remember?”

 

Aidan winced and grimaced, when he tried to shake his head. “No. Guess, I must 've blackened out.”

 

“I bet, you have”, Richard gave back. “You were out for quite some time.” He took a deep breath, not knowing how to continue. The upcoming part wasn't exactly what he wanted to talk about, but Aidan's questioning look let him no other choice. “I … well, … as far as I can remember … I think, there was a deer out of the blue appearing in the middle of the road and instead of hitting it, I must have tried to draw away”, Richard admitted reluctantly. “Didn't work out very well. Car made a few somersaults and hit a tree with its left side, so … here we are. I … I'm really sorry.”

 

It was hard to admit that he made a mistake, that he hadn't reacted the way he was supposed to. Harder than he thought, because Richard Armitage didn't make mistakes. He discovered them. And laid a finger on them, for example on the ones Aidan made. And in his eyes Aidan made a lot. And now he had to confess his very own failure – not to anyone but to Aidan. Life really was a bitch.

 

Aidan blinked a few times, nodding slightly. “Shit happens”, he said. “You injured?”

 

“Shit happens? Seriously? That's all you have to say? I could have killed you, man.” Richard Couldn't believe it. Maybe the other one was to shaken to get the information right?

 

“But you didn't, did you?” Aidan answered softly. “Now, what's up with you?”

 

“Probably broke my leg. Apart from that I think, I'm okay”, he answered truthfully. “And the leg doesn't hurt that much right now, since I found some painkillers in your backpack. They are really good ones.”

 

“Migraines”, Aidan said. “They're … rather strong. B'... careful withem.”

 

Aidan took some pauses between his words, Richard noticed worryingly. The boy must be in quite some pain and seemed to have trouble to catch his breath.

 

“What about you?” he prodded carefully. “Can you tell me, where you're hurting?”

 

Aidan seemed to make an internal check-up of his body, since he took his time to answer.

 

Obviously he decided to go with a forced out joke: “Maybe … you sh'd ask me, what … doesn't. For … my hair and m' toes seem to be … alright. In between … there's fire. I think … head's worst.”

 

Richard cursed internally. He didn't like what he heard, neither what Aidan was saying nor the way he wheezed his words out. The headaches, the long blackout, the vomiting, the slurred speech and last but not least the bleeding from his left temple clearly indicated a severe concussion. And God knew what other injuries still might be hidden under the surface. He refused to even think about them. All he knew was, that Aidan was in need for help as soon as possible. Help he could not provide. They needed a medic the quicker the better.

 

_Oh shit, Armitage, you are a fucking idiot. How could you forget the most important thing?_

 

“Where's your phone, Aidan?” he shot.

 

“My ...what?”, Aidan was looking like a deer in the headlights.

 

“Your phone, you moron. Your fucking mobile. We need to call for help. Where is it?”

 

He knew that yelling at an injured and still not fully coherent person wasn't the nicest thing to do, but right now, he had different priorities than to be polite.

 

“I … don't … isn't it in my backpack?” Aidan's brow furrowed deeply as he tried hard to remember where he had put his mobile, when he had entered the car this morning. He swallowed as if a wave of nausea was hitting him again.

 

“Aidan, think, and think fast”, Richard urged him. And added a bit more gentle: “Please. And please don't say, that you left it in the trunk.”

 

“N...No,... I don't think I did. I …”. Brooding over the whereabouts of the valuable device seemed to be really hard work for Aidan, Richard thought grimly. Then he heard it, barely a whisper: B'ck pock't, I guess.”

 

“You … what?? You are sitting on your phone? Are you completely out of your mind? What if it's broken? We are screwed, Aidan. We are dying out here, do you even realize that? Your bloody phone is our last hope to get help and you are squeezing it to shards with your stupid butt.”

 

Richard was gasping, it terrified him that he suddenly felt tears welling up in his eyes. He felt his throat constricting, leaving him out of breath. He could not cry. Not here. Not in front of Aidan. But it was clear as day that the last few hours really had taken their toll on him. His last hope to get out of this situation had been the use of Aidan's phone – and now said Aidan confessed that he had been sitting on the device for the whole time including their accident. He couldn't believe it and if it weren't for his still slightly throbbing leg and Aidan's poor condition he would have shaken the other man.

 

“Now get it out”, he pressed. “Let's see if it's still working with your ass-print on it.”

 

Aidan was looking at him, confused and obviously shaken, if not by Richard's hands but by his brutal words. The younger man's eyes were wide and dark in the pale face and Richard regretted his harsh words immediately. With trembling hands Aidan reached for his right back pocket and tried to retrieve the item. He had to shift in his seat, lift his butt and contort a bit what made him cry out and curse. He seemed to have paled even more and his face was covered with a thin layer of sweat when he handed the phone over to Richard, still not saying a word, but wheezing heavily.

 

Suddenly Richard felt tired to the bone. His body seemed to lack all of it's muscle tone, his limbs being only useless extensions to his spineless torso. Finally he held Aidan's phone in his hands, an item which he had desperately wanted and for which he had scared the living daylights out of his cast mate. The phone, his last best hope. And now all the hope was shattered. He didn't even had the strength to suppress his tears.

 

“ 's it brok'n?” Aidans voice was small, scared.

 

Richard looked at him with a teary eyes. The sense of guilt was so evident in Aidans gaze that Richard felt pity for the boy.

 

He shook his head. No, the phone was not broken. But they had no service whatsoever.

 

“Shit. I'm so sorry”, Aidan's voice was hoarse.

 

“What are you sorry for?” Richard sounded desperate. “It's not your fault, we're having no service. If anything it's mine, because I drove that fucking car against that fucking tree. It's my fault, that you are gravely injured and that we are stuck here. And it's fucking New Zealand's fault that there is no service and we can't get help. So stop that stupid self-pity and leave me alone...”

 

He had not intended to yell at Aidan again, but he was in fact at the verge of a meltdown. He knew he had been unfair. He knew Aidan wasn't to blame for anything that happened, but at that very moment he couldn't take it anymore.

 

Feeling the other one's anxious look, Richard took a deep breath and tried to regain his composure. He made a quick job to wipe his face with his large hands and pretended it never happened. He felt ashamed for letting his frustration out on Aidan and actually crying in front of him. At least he owed him an explanation.

 

“I'm sorry I yelled at you”, he finally manged to say. “I really am. That was uncalled for. I just … I'm dealing with this shit already a few hours longer than you do – I mean, you've been unconscious for quite some time – and your bloody phone was my last hope to get help, because mine actually _is_ broken. And when you said, …. when you said, you were sitting on that fucking thing … it took the better of me. And now … it's just not working … ” His voice broke. Despair and exhaustion were fogging his mind. There were so many hours left, they had to endure in this freaking car and there was nothing they could do about it. He sighed and let his head sink against the headrest.

 

Aidan said nothing in return. The only sign that he actually comprehended what Richard just told him was a slight nod. Richard heard his wheezing breaths and knew that this would be the loudest noise he had to listen to for the next two days. This and the occasional moans and groans when Aidan was hit by a new wave of pain. He wasn't expecting the tiny voice that came from the passenger's seat: "Are we really going to die, Richard?"

 


	8. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry, it took me so long to update this story. Unfortunatley work had decided to go crazy during the last couple of weeks. I really hope you enjoy the next chapter. And again, I hope there are not too many mistakes.

He could have slapped himself. How could he be so stupid and actually say something about dying?

 

_You're a fool, Armitage, a bloody fool. Now keep your shit together and say something encouraging. Can't you see, that the boy is scared?_

 

He cleared his throat to keep his voice as calm and steady as always, and with a deep breath he did his best to sound confident, when he said: “Of course not, Aidan. I was totally exaggerating. We're not going to die here. Not today, not tomorrow and not the day after that. Look, Dean, Graham and Luke know where we are, and if we won't be back on Sunday evening they certainly will send somebody to look for us. Plus, New Zealand is famous for its hiking-trails and stuff, at least so I heard. I'm sure someone will pass by soon, find us and call for help. And if nothing of this will happen, there is still Peter. Because we're supposed to be back at work on Monday morning: and if we're not showing up by then, Peter will turn this whole fucking country upside down just to find us. I'm sure of it. So we may have to be patient and wait a little bit longer, but we're going to be fine. _You_ are going to be fine. You hear me? And since you're the most greedy person I know, we are provided with enough food and water to survive.”

 

That was a very long speech and Richard found himself pleased with it.

 

_Well done. Very convincing._

 

Thankful he noticed the weak smile Aidan managed about his words. “See”, he said, “just hold on for a little while. But speaking of food: do you want something? I mean, we should probably ration the food, so we will have enough until Monday, but since you threw up everything that was inside you, ...”

 

Aidan shook his head no.

 

“Come on, you need at least to drink some water”, Richard said earnestly.

 

Aidan shook his head again, groaning a little bit.

 

“Don't be stubborn, Aidan. We have to stay hydrated and you've lost all your fluids when you puked your guts out.” He grapped the waterbottle from the foot-well, opened it and handed it over to Aidan. “Just a small sip, okay? Or do I have to force it down your throat? Because I will do that”, he threatened.

 

With a deep sigh Aidan obeyed and reached for the bottle. But Richard didn't let go, when he took in the other man's trembling fingers. “Here, let me help you. The bottle is quiet heavy”, he offered airily. Carefully he assisted Aidan with taking a few small sips, before he took the bottle back.

 

“Will it stay down?” He really hoped it would.

 

“Think so”, Aidan wheezed. “Don't wanna … repeat that scene from earlier.”

 

“I totally agree”, Richard smirked. “Just take some deep breaths, maybe that will help.”

 

“Mmhhh...”

 

Then there was silence. Again. Only his and Aidan's breathing sounds were heard. Maybe he wasn't right. Maybe he would be bored to death. Maybe he should try to get some sleep – and hopefully wake up, when a rescue party was cutting him out of that freaking car. He truly was exhausted, but every time he closed his eyes, his thoughts started to gallop through his mind like crazy. And those weren't happy thoughts. All he could think of were the indefinite number of worst case scenarios, his imagination suggested him. Scenarios, that made his heart race and his hands sweat and twitch. He had to stop this or it would drive him crazy. Maybe talking to Aidan would help him to calm down. If only he could think of something to start a conversation …

 

“So, I'm an arrogant jerk, huh?”

 

_Brilliant topic, Armitage. Perfect opener._

 

“What?” Aidan sounded confused. “What d'you mean?”

 

“You just told me earlier.”

 

“I said that? Wow … I … don't … I'm sorry, I guess...” It was obvious that Aidan ran out of words.

 

“Don't be. I'ts okay. I'm sure I can be an arrogant jerk sometimes.” He chuckled.

 

Aidan's weary smile did not reach his eyes. He cleared his throat, before he answered. “Truth to be told, you can. With all your lecturing and stuff. Sometimes … you remind me on those of my classmates who always got the good grades, always had their homework including extra work and never made any jokes or pranks … God, I hated those guys back in highschool …”

 

Richard bit his lips. He certainly had been one of those guys – except for maths. He'd always sucked at maths, no matter how hard he tried. And it made him still angry that – oh bloody irony – the laziest guy in class got straight A's without any effort. He was the “Aidan Turner” kind of guy – sloppy, chaotic, unorganized. But a genius when it came to numbers. Richard told Aidan that short story and Aidan chuckled lightly.

 

“Seems … that we are both stuck with our highschool nemesis, don't you think? Although, I sucked at maths too. English was my favorite. … And … arts. I still like painting. You?”

 

“Painting? Me? God, no. I lack any talent.” Richard took a short glimpse on Aidan, glad that the other one seemed to be much more coherent than before, although his eyes were still slightly unfocused.

 

“Well, at least you're great at acting. Guess, you found the right profession, didn't you?”

 

“You think?” Richard was trying hard to reveal the irony in the other one's words, but was surprised when he did not find any.

 

“Come on, you must know that”, Aidan said firmly, gazing at him.

 

“Well, I don't know. It's hard to say... I mean … well, Peter liked what I was doing with Thorin and … yeah … I like my job, so, yeah … maybe ...” He stuttered. Richard was actually at a loss for words. Aidan's blunt statement had caught him off guards.

 

_And now you're blushing like a school girl. Grow up._

 

“Is this fishing for compliments or are you really questioning your work like that?” Aidan sounded tired and slightly annoyed.

 

“I'm not fishing for compliments. It's just strange to hear something like that from someone like you.”

 

“Someone like me? What's that supposed to mean? That I wouldn't say anything nice to you? I'm not like you, you know.” Aidan flinched and grimaced when he accidentally moved his head too quickly. “Look, I know, I'm not your favorite person and neither are you mine. But I honestly admire your work, I really do.” Aidan's speech became softer and slower.

 

“Maybe you're not as bad as I thought you'd be”, Richard reluctantly admitted. “Maybe we just don't know each other well enough. And maybe fate gave us here the opportunity to get to know each other.” It was supposed to be a joke, but no one was laughing.

 

“If that's true then 'fate' has definitely to improve it's methods”, Aidan pressed. “Stuck together in an elevator for three hours would have done it. I wasn't … in need for a fucking car accident. … Anyway. Since 'fate' decided … what do you wanna know?”

 

Aidan leaned his head against the head rest, squeezing his eyes shut. Richard noticed worriedly, that his face had paled a little further and that his strength was fading. He had to keep him awake. He shouldn't let him drop off, for he feared that the young man wouldn't wake up again.

 

He remembered the photographs he had found in Aidan's wallet and decided to go with them. “Okay, then. Since 'fate' has decided: Let's start with your family. You're very close, aren't you? Do you miss them?”

 

Aidan's breath hitched for a moment. Then he swallowed a few times. And then, when Richard thought, he would never get an answer, he heard Aidan's hoarse voice saying. “Yeah, we're close. And yes, I miss them. I mean, I love it here in New Zealand and it's a great opportunity for – you know – someone like me. But yes, I miss my family, my friends. I miss Ireland and ...” He stopped.

 

“A girl?” Richard suggested.

 

Aidan hesitated, then nodded carefully. “Sarah. I met her two months before I went to New Zealand.”

 

“That fresh, huh? This must be hard for you two, I can imagine.” Although he couldn't. Back in Great Britain there was no girl or woman or whatsoever waiting for him.

 

“Will she come and visit you sometimes?”

 

“Hope so. But she's working very hard. She's in show business, too, and she's quite successful. So … we're left with facetime and Skype. Which is … not always easy … because of our work schedules and the time difference. Most days we try to talk during her lunch time – that's 1 a.m. for me. And then I can sleep for two hours and talk to my parents. And after that I usually have to get up ...” Aidan chuckled lightly. “You see, it's a hard live.”

 

Richard sat with his mouth open. That was the reason, Aidan slept through all his breaks and more. The boy was tired from talking to his girlfriend and family all night. He'd expected him to go to parties and enjoy New Zealand's nightlife, and instead of that he was chatting with his mom. Oh boy, was he wrong.

 

“I know, what you think”, Aidan continued with a strained voice. “That I'm a mama's boy and you're probably right, but … yeah … sometimes I really miss them. I mean, New Zealand is great and everything, but … some days aren't and then you get homesick and … I know, it's stupid … And now … well, I cannot even call my mother for her birthday, which is today, because I'm sitting in this fucking car with a crashed door and a crashed body and I don't have service. It sucks. It sucks big time.”

 

Aidan's voice cracked. He swallowed hard and Richard could tell that the boy was seriously trying to hold back the tears.

 

“I'm so sorry, Aidan. I'm so sorry”, was all he could say. He wanted to tell him that Aidan would call his mom as soon as they were rescued, but the words simply would not come.

 

Breathing somewhat heavily Aidan shook his head. “It's okay. Not your fault. _I_ am sorry. I know the situation sucks for you too. Come on, let's keep talking. Uhmmm … are you seeing anyone special?”

 

Oh oh, wrong subject, Richard thought immediately. Anyone special? Was he? His thoughts went back to London. To Kara to be exact. To blond and beautiful Kara, he'd shared a couple of wonderful nights with. It seemed to be ages ago. And then his thoughts traveled to the Hobbit's set, his cast-mates and one in particular. Was this one 'someone special'? He did not know.

 

“No, no one special”, he said, shaking his head.

 

Aidan's eyes flickered in disbelief.

 

“No one? Okay, … I mean, it's probably none of my business, but I thought …”

 

“What?”

 

“That you and Lee ...”

 

Son of a bitch. Was it that obvious? Or was Aidan just a good observer?

 

He and Lee? Was that really a thing? He didn't even considered himself as gay. Nor bi. He was just … well … Richard. He'd never put a label on his sexual preferences. He just liked to caress and fuck Karas body and he really wouldn't mind to do the same with Lee.

 

Richard felt himself blushing. Again.

 

Aidan managed a smirky grin. “So I'm right, am I not?”

 

“You're definitely right”, Richard snapped. “This _is_ none of your business. Let's just change the subject and tell me about those books your reading.”

 

Aidans laugh sounded all sneering in Richard's ears. The younger man nearly hiccuped when he blurted out: “Jeez, Richard's shy, I can't believe it. You're truly blushing like a little girl.”

 

“Shut the fuck up, Aidan. This doesn't concern you.” But Aidan was laughing even harder. Only then, out of the blue, his laughing turned into a cough. And then he couldn't stop.

 


	9. Chapter 8

Richard panicked. He really did. Aidan's coughs sounded painful and wet as the young man was desperately gasping for air and Richard had not the slightest idea what he could do or should not do to help the poor guy.

 

“Calm down, Aidan. Relax.You're making it worse when you're panicking”, he told Aidan with a firm voice, which was pure irony since he himself was lightyears away from being relaxed and calm. He tried to rub soothing circles on the the other one's back, which was sort of difficult, because he had to move a bit more towards Aidan, who was still held back from the very tight seat belt. Richard quickly loosened the belt and helped the wheezing Aidan to lean a bit forward.

 

“Better now? Come on, boy, take slow and deep breaths. Keep them come and go, nice and steady … come on, go with my voice … in… and out. Yeah, good one. In … and out, … Good boy, there it is...“

 

He tried hard to suppress the trembling of his own voice, when he felt the young Irish man tremble under his hands. Aidan was still coughing and fighting for air, his eyes were wet with tears and his hands were clenching into the fabric of his jeans, but his breaths seemed to come a little bit easier. Richard's left hand rubbed Aidan's back, while he pressed his right firmly on his chest. He forgot his surroundings, forgot all his fears, his leg, his head and the fact that they were stuck in that bloody car. His whole focus was now on Aidan, while he urged him to breath.

 

“You hear me, Aidan? Nice and steady … in … and out … that's it … you're doing great … come on … keep going … in … and out … and again: in … and out ...”

 

Richard didn't know how long it took, until Aidan was able to get his breathing under control, but it felt like ages. The whole time he was holding onto the young man and coaching him with his deep and dark voice. When finally the coughing stopped and Aidan seemed to get enough oxygen with every breath he took, Richard let himself fall back into his seat, sweating and exhausted.

 

“Oh God, don't you do something like that ever again. You hear me?”

 

Although Aidan's breathing was still erratic, with this awful wet and wheezing sound, he managed a shaky “'m so sorry. Didn't w'nta scare y' like ... that.”

 

“It's okay. I guess it wasn't on purpose. Feeling any better?”

 

Aidan nodded slightly. Yeah.” Although Richard wasn't so sure if this was true. He gazed at Aidan, took in the shaking form, the pale complexion stricken with tears and blood from the head wound, the scared brown eyes, the pale lips who seemed to have a slight shade of blue, the bopping adam's apple, that showed the constant swallowing. And worst of all – Richard noticed with horror – there was a thread of red tainted saliva, running from the corner of Aidan's mouth. Richard felt his heart sinking.

 

_Not good, Armitage, definitely not good._

 

But instead of expressing his fears to Aidan and scaring the hell out of the young man, he simply pulled out another paper tissue and wiped gently over Aidans mouth and chin.

 

“You … had a little spittle on your … uhhmm....” He coverd his discomfort with an awkward grin on his face, when he quickly put the hankie out of Aidan's sight and back into his pocket. Then he asked: “Want another sip?”, pointing to the water bottle in the foot well.

 

“N...no, 'm good.” Then silence. And then “Thank you.”

 

“What for?”

 

“For being here. For staying calm. For … helping... me. I think, I panicked a bit, when I couldn't breath properly … thought, I was going to choke … but you … you kept your cool. That was great. … 'n your voice is amazing. Y' should get paid just for speaking. Doesn't … matter what y're saying … y' could read the phone book … and I would listen.

 

Aidan was still short of breath, Richard noticed worriedly, but he couldn't help but chuckle at those words. He appreciated Aidan's compliment about his voice – and kept the confession, how scared he truly had been and still was safely to himself.

 

“Glad I could help”, he nodded. “Hey, why don't we move your backrest a little bit more backwards. It might be more comfortable for you, don't you think? You'd be in a half lying position, so you can rest your head a little more. And maybe it helps you to relax, so you can breath a little bit easier. The handle is on your left side. Can you get to it? Wanna try?”

 

Aidan tried, he really did, Richard could see it. But to watch the young man struggle to use the little item to move his backrest in a more horizontal position, was nearly painful. Richard saw the strain on Aidan's face when he was moving his arm stiffly to the left side of his seat. Sweat covered his face, he was groaning, wincing, shaking. Richard almost felt the pain by himself, but there was nothing he could do to help. He was not able to reach that handle, even if he wanted to.

 

“Must've hurt .. my shoulder”, Aidan moaned. “I … I can't use my arm properly. Ahhhh... shit, shit, shit … hurts like a motherfucker....”

 

Language, Richard thought, but kept his mouth shut, when Aidan cried out in pain. But nevertheless, the boy didn't give up. In the end the backrest had moved several inches backwards and Aidan was sinking gratefully in it, panting heavily and unable to say another word. Richard watched with growing concern, how the boy fought to keep his eyes open.

 

“Hey, hey, hey, stay with me. You cannot go to sleep now. You have to stay awake. You hear me?” he bellowed, maybe a bit louder and harsher than necessary.

 

“'m trying.” Aidan was swallowing hard. “Feeling a bit dizzy right now.”

 

“That's the exhaustion. Just rest a little bit. But don't go to sleep, okay?” He knew, he sounded like a military officer who expected only one answer: “Sir, yes, sir!” But it was only because he feared, that if Aidan was going to sleep, injured and concussed as he was, he would never wake up again.

 

“Just rest a little bit and tell me about those books, you're reading...”

 

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

 

Richard fought off exhaustion and tiredness. They had been talking for what felt like hours, but since Aidan had become more and more monosyllabic and out of breath during the whole conversation, the task of finding new topics to talk about fell to Richard. And right now, he felt almost drained. His leg had started to throb again and the pain behind his eyes had returned. He desperately longed for some sleep or at least for quietness.

 

His gaze rested on Aidan, while he tried to suppress a slight moan. Aidans brow was creased in pain, his eyes half closed. He seemed ready to doze of any second.

 

“Hey, hey, hey, that's not supposed to happen”, Richard yawned.

 

_Oh fuck, why isn't there coffee, when you need any._

 

“What's wrong with you?” Aidan asked, while he seemed suddenly to be more alert and was trying to get into a more upright position. Richard didn't miss the worry in Aidans question.

 

“I'm fucking tired, my leg aches and my head is pounding. And since I kept the conversation going for the last hour or so, my throat is pretty dry.”

 

He didn't mean to be grumpy, but he couldn't help it.

 

“There's still water”, Aidan offered slowly. “Have a sip and go to sleep. We won't stay awake till Sunday night or Monday morning anyway. So there's no use in trying. Just let us get at least some sleep. We can continue talking, when we wake up again.”

 

“But we have to”, Richard said stubbornly. “We cannot sleep right now. _You_ cannot sleep right now. You're definitely having a concussion. I may have one, too. It's dangerous to sleep. We … we may fail to wake up again. So pull yourself together and talk to me.”

 

“But I'm tired”, Aidan protested. “I cannot stay awake for that long.” He sounded exactly like one of those spoiled children who were always whining that they wanted to eat candy and use the playstation. Richard hated those kids.

 

“I know you are. I'm awfully tired, too. But we have to keep each other awake. End of discussion.”

 

“Hey, I'm not a child...”

 

“...then stop acting like one.”

 

“You're such 'n arse, Armitage. I know, I'm probably the last person you wanna be with right now. You're not my first choice either. But I'm scared and in a lot of pain, and I don't need you yelling at me. I fucking know, that sleeping might not be the smartest idea in ... our current situation, but … I don't think we can avoid it any longer. At least I know I can't.” The last words came out breathless and wheezing and Richard feared he would have to face another coughing fit.

 

 _You're a jerk, Armitage. You're exactly the arrogant jerk, that Aidan was calling you._ _Of course, the boy is scared and tired. Couldn't you be at least a little bit more sensitive?_

 

But he couldn't figure out another way to keep Aidan awake though. At least angry Aidan was way better than unconscious Aidan.

 

“Maybe we should eat a little bit”, he suggested, “just to keep up our strength. Thank god, there's so much food in your backpack.”

 

“Help yourself”, Aidan muttered. “I don't think, I can keep anything down.”

 

“Come on, just give it a try.” Richard did not like the fact that Aidan refused to eat entirely, but he knew there was no way to force him to. But maybe when Aidan was smelling the sandwich …? He started digging in the backpack, not without moaning and groaning because of his broken leg.

 

“Ahhhh, fuck, that leg gets worse with every second.”

 

“Painkillers are fading”, Aidan supposed. “Want another one?”

 

“I'm not sure, if that is smart, for I don't know anything about the side effects.”

 

“Uhhmmm... no idea, but you're probably right. When I take them, I just hope that they are doing their actual job and keep my head from splitting in two. I'm always dizzy and nauseated when I take them, but that could also be from the headaches... so...”

 

“I didn't know you were suffering from migraines. Isn't that just a women's thing?” Maybe Aidan would take that as another insult, but Richard did not care. At least they were talking again.

 

“Well, it's not written on my forehead, is it? It's nothing you're gonna brag about, like 'hey mate, look, I've got a migraine...'. And no, it's not only for women. Men can get those, too. And I am one of them. Yey me...”

 

“Sorry”, Richard muttered. “Sure, you don't want a bite? It's really good.” Richard had finally found the sandwich, broke it in two and held one half in Aidan's direction, actually feeling a bit stronger with the additioned calories in his system.

 

The other one shook his head no. “No, I'm good. Although I could have a cup of tea or something. It's getting colder, don't you think?”

 

No, Richard did not, he still felt quite warm inside the car. But he could clearly see the trembling of Aidan's body beside him. “Well you did not bring tea, and neither did I. Only water, I'm sorry.”

 

“It's okay, I'm good, I guess.”

 

Richard cursed inwardly. Injured people should be kept warm. If nothing, he at least knew that much. But how was he supposed to warm Aidan up, when the blankets an jackets were on the back seat of the car and it already hurt, when he only tried to turn to his left side to take a better look at Aidan. He would never be able to reach one of those bloody blankets.

 

“It's fine, really”, Aidan said as if he had read Richard's thoughts. “Maybe it's for the best”, he suggested. “I won't be able to sleep, when I'm that chilly.... but apart from that: Sitting here is kind of boring. We should have brought cards or a chess board or something...”

 

“You're playing chess? For real?”

 

“I know the rules, but to be honest, I suck big time. I'm more into poker.”

 

“Thought as much.”

 

At least some he was right with some things.

 

“What time is it, Rich?” The conversation was dripping like a leaky water-tap.

 

“Wait.” He pulled out Aidan's phone, that he was still keeping in his pocket, and tapped on the screen. “

 

“Around six p.m.”

 

“Still Saturday?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Oh.”

 

That little “oh” was all, Richard needed to feel downright terrible. That “oh” said it all: They were still trapped inside that car, for hours that felt like ages, and it wasn't even halftime. The blunt and brutal truth was: They were far from being save.

 

_Be strong, Armitage, be strong. You cannot cry in front of Aidan. Blink those bloody tears away. Now._

 

Facing the side window to his right, he tried to control his breathing and suppress the sniffling, so Aidan would not get suspicious.

 

“I'm glad that you're here.” It was barely a whisper, but Richard heard it anyway. Bloody shit. Now he had to blink even harder to keep his tears at bay. He swallowed.

 

_Oh, you bloody coward, just admit it. You're thankful, too, that you are not alone in this and that he is here. Just tell him._

 

And with that thought in mind he opened his mouth to tell Aidan just that. But what came out, was a totally different sentence: “Oh my god, Aidan, do you hear that? I think there are people coming...”

 


	10. Chapter 9

Richard was floating. He felt his body sway in a comfortable up and down like in a pool of warm water, his mind strangely disconnected from pain and fear. It seemed as if nothing could harm him, nothing could worry him. Everything was easy now, since he'd decided to let go.

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

They had been yelling. They had been shouting. They had hammered against solid metal to catch the attention of those passer-bys, that they had heard talking. They had heard their voices, but had not been able to catch sight of anybody. Richard was frantic. This was their chance – and maybe their only chance. They could bring help. They would bring help – if only Aidan and he were heard. They just had to make enough noise to get their attention. He was screaming from the top of his lungs. Only when he had to catch his breath, he'd realized, that Aidan's voice became already quieter, and that the boy's knocking and hammering grew weaker and weaker. Aidan's energy was starting to fail. “No, no, no... you cannot give up, Aidan. Not now. Help is near. Just keep going. The will hear us. Keep going. Come on … HELP!!!!!! WE ARE HERE!!!! HELP! PLEASE!!!... Call for help, Aidan, do it ...”

 

“They're gone.” Aidan sounded weak.

 

“No, they are not. Keep yelling. Don't stop. HELP!!!!!”

 

“Richard, stop it. They are gone.” Drained.

 

“No! No! They are not … we just have to ...”

 

“Richard, please … let it go. They did not hear us. They are gone...” Frustrated. Desperate. Resigned. But there was no doubt in Aidan's voice. He knew, what he said was true. The people, their chance to get out of here, were truly gone.

 

That was the moment, Richard broke. Tiredness, exhaustion, pain and worry took over, overwhelmed his already desperate mind. Tears were streaming down his face, his body was rattled by tremors, the sobs that escaped his throat nearly made him choke. Richard was crying now, because he could not take it anymore. They were going to die here, all alone in the wilderness of a foreign country, where they were supposed to make it big.

 

He didn't know, how long he had been crying, when he suddenly felt a trembling hand on his trembling shoulders, when he suddenly heard a soft voice talking to him, mumbling that everything would turn out okay. That they just had to be a little more patient. That it wasn't his fault. And that he was going to be alright. …. It seemed to take ages, until Richards tremor softened and the sobbing stopped. For the whole time that hand stayed on his shoulder, although Richard could feel its shivering.

 

“You're freezing, aren't you.” It wasn't a question. Aidan had said before that he was chilly. And despite being hot and sweaty from crying so hard, Richard could feel the cold of the beginning night creeping up his own body.

 

“A little bit”, Aidan replied and Richard shook his head. He knew a lie when he heard one. Without a word he reached over to touch Aidan's pale face. It was ice-cold. Shit. The nights in New Zealand were still quite cold, and sitting in a car without moving would probably not help to keep their warmth.

 

“You _are_ freezing.” Richard repeated as if he had to confirm his first assumption.

 

“I'm a little bit cold.” Aidan admitted again. “But you're cold too. Plus, there's not very much we can do about it, can we? I don't think the heat's still working.”

 

“No, I don't think so.” Richard furrowed his brow and let out a sigh.

 

_Not good, not good, Armitage. We're facing a whole night out in the cold. And we both are at least in a mild state of shock. Not good. Definitely not good._

 

“Uhmm … those jackets and blankets, that I put on the backseats … ” Aidan dragged out his words.

 

No, Richard corrected involuntarily in his mind, you did not _put_ them on the backseats, you _threw_ them there.

 

“Do you think, you can reach one of those?” … Aidan's question was barely audible. He was now visibly shivering. “It might help us to stay warm during the night.”

 

Richard nodded slowly. Of course, a blanket or a jacket could make their night much more comfortable and maybe more. It could be a real lifesaver. If he could only reach one of those. And of course he had thought of these earlier. But he also knew, that it was impossible for him to reach one. The thought alone of shifting and turning and stretching made Richard wince. His fractured leg war already throbbing and he didn't even want to think about jostling it.

 

He tried to steal himself, but he felt nauseous and weak and he just did not want to be the one who was in charge. He wanted to be taken care of. He was tired of the responsibility for his and Aidan's life. He really wanted to let go and got to sleep. But maybe he had to try, hadn't he?

 

Aidan had asked for help. Aidan would not be able even to get near such a blanket. His condition was way worse than his own, wasn't it? _Wasn't it?_ He considered him being worse, but was he really?

 

Aidan's head hurt. And the left arm wasn't okay. That's what he knew. But other than that … what _was_ wrong with Aidan? Richard's head hurt as well. And he had a limb that was _definitely broken_. Why should he be the one to reach for the blanket? Why should he be the one to keep them both safe? Why on earth should _he_ risk to hurt himself even more when there was still another one in the car, he could share the burden with?

 

Before he could ponder once more on what he was thinking, he had blurted it out – with the only effect, that Aidan paled even more. Richard saw him swallow hard, he heard his breaths speeding up, obviously unable to find a proper reply.

 

“I … I … I'm not feeling well, Richard”, he finally managed to say, but right now it sounded lame in Richards ears.

 

“Ohhh, right. Of course, you're not feeling well. But I'm feeling like I'm on a vacation, yes? Is it that what you think? 'Richard is fine, so he can do it', yes? Just for the record: I'm injured as well...”

 

_Why are you saying something like that? He knows you're hurt, too. It's just mean and totally uncalled for. Bloody idiot, Armitage. Bloody idiot._

 

But before Aidan even could mumble his usual “I'm sorry”, Richard started to move towards the back of the car. Defiant, yes. Just to show Aidan, that _he_ wasn't a cry-baby – which he regretted immediately. “Aaaaaahhhhhhh, FUCK....” When hot pain shot through his leg, he fell back on his seat, sweating and panting and trying to keep the contents of his stomach inside. Tears were streaming down his face again, this time because the pain was more he could take.

 

“Jeez, shit, shit, shit. Just stay put. I'm so so sorry. I'm really sorry, Rich. It's gonna be alright. I won't need blanket. It's okay... get some rest...” Aidan was rambling beside him through his chattering teeth. So much for “I won't need a blanket.”

 

“Yeah, sure”, Richard snorted as soon as he had regained his breath. “You're shaking like a leaf now, I am cold, too, and these bloody blankets are out of my reach. I simply cannot turn so much. I just can't. But without these fucking things we will become hypothermic and our chances to make it out of here alive are decreasing as we speak. This sucks. It sucks big time, Aidan. Do you get that?”

 

“Yeah. I do. Even I do.” Aidan's intense gaze caught Richard's eyes. There was something in them Richard could only describe as some kind of determination.

 

Just like through some kind of a fog he watched Aidan as he tried to twist and stretch his body enough to get his fingers on one of the blankets or a jacket. The seconds of Aidan's sluggish movements seemed to pass in slow motion. Slowly, very slowly, Aidan turned his body to his right side, made the attempt to turn his head to peak around his seat and stretch out his good arm. He tried to stifle his moans, but failed. With growing dismay, Richard saw him keeling over the gear-stick, gasping and nearly crying, but – with a blanket between his fingertips.

 

“Oh dear god” was the only thing Richard managed to say. When he got his voice back, he started to yell: “You bloody idiot. Did you have to play the hero here? You're not supposed to move so much. Now see, what you got from that ...”

 

He did not know, why he said it, why he was scolding Aidan like a three year old. Maybe it was his own conscience. Maybe he felt embarrassed for his own weakness. Maybe he hated that Aidan was in fact playing the hero he himself refused to play.

 

Aidan didn't say a word. He was shaking now uncontrollably although beads of sweat were showing on his brow. He was still hunched over and had screwed his eyes shut, when his wet breath came in an uneven pattern.

 

“You shouldn't have done that.” Richard was surprised to hear his own voice being so soft. All of the sudden the words came out nearly as a whisper. “I didn't want you to hurt yourself any further.”

 

Gently he took the blanket from Aidan's trembling hands and tried to wrap his cast-mate in it.

 

“D.. don't.”

 

“What?”

 

“Don't. F...for you. You … take it.” A low whimper followed Aidan's words, as he tried to wriggle himself out of the soft fabric.

 

“Don't be silly. We have to keep you warm. And besides... it's your blanket anyway. You fetched it, you keep it.”

 

Aidan shook his head ever so slightly, eyes still squeezed shut. “No. You...rs. Just st...stop … complaining and wrap … your...self in that f... fucking … thing.”

 

“Oh for God's sake, Aidan” Richard tried hard to tame his upcoming anger – and his growing concern. “Don't act like a fucking child. Just sit up and get under that blanket, so the cold won't kill you tonight. I can't have your death on my conscience.”

 

“Wo … won't need it. Sss' not your … fault … So ...sorry...”

 

Richard hardly heard the quiet words that Aidan stammered between his ragged breaths.

 

“No, Aidan, no. You're not gonna do that. I will not allow that, you hear me. I. Will. Not. Allow. That.” With new found energy – and several suppressed cries – Richard helped Aidan back in an sitting position, where he could lean back in his seat. He took the blanket once again and covered Aidan's trembling form with one half of it. The other half was used to bring some warmth to himself. Under the blanket his left hand found Aidan's right one and he held it tight. Even when he heard Aidan coughing and gasping, when he heard him fighting for air, when he felt Aidan's ice-cold fingers intertwined with his own, when he felt the tremors of Aidan's body, and finally felt him go limp, he did not let go. He knew, Aidan wouldn't feel anything. He knew, Aidan had finally given up – but Richard Armitage did not let go.

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Richard was floating. He felt … okay. Almost comfortable. Safe, like in a warm cocoon. A faint smile tugged on his lips as he went to sleep...

 


	11. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just when I thought about abandoning this story, I got a little kick in the behind that made me go on. Thank you very much, Silva_13, for your convincing words. That was exactly, what I needed.

When Richard woke again he was greeted by nature. Trees were standing tall before him. He just started to wonder why this sight, although it was already dark, was so clear and wide, and why a cool breeze was brushing over his skin, when he realized that there was something amiss. And it wasn't only something. The whole front of the car including the steering wheel was gone. He was sitting in his seat like in a giant cinema watching mother nature in the darkness – although it wasn't completely dark. Blue lights flickered over the trees, then suddenly flashlights – way too bright – shone into his eyes and made them hurt. Then there was shouting and the loud noises of engines running and heavy motor-driven tools, then a gentle shaking of his own shoulders. They had been found!

 

“Sir? … Sir? … Are you with me, Sir?”

 

Richard blinked. Once. Twice. Then he nodded warily towards a quite young female doctor, whose face appeared in front of him.

 

“Good. Your doing very well... I'm Dr. Hannah McLeary and I'd like to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind...”

 

He was asked – he answered. Of course, he knew his name, his date and place of birth, the name of his friend and what had happened to them. He could tell where he was hurting and what he had taken against the pain. The only thing he did not know was how much time had gone by since the accident and for how long he had been asleep. Penlights were shone into his eyes, his pulse was taken and a blood-pressure cuff had been attached to his right upper arm. He was being prodded and touched from head to toe by gentle and professional hands and then had been lifted carefully from his seat, with a stabilising board on his back, and gently lowered on a stretcher. The whole time he tried to take a look around the rather slim doctor and her medical team hovering over him, but they managed successfully to block his view. The only thing he actually could see, was that the passenger's seat had already been empty. He tried to listen to the shouting that came from some place beside him, where another medical team was probably working on Aidan, but he couldn't really make out more than single words.

 

“My friend …?” he finally managed to ask...

 

“...is in good hands”, the young doctor replied. “They are taking good care of him.”

 

She stuck a needle in the crook of his arm with gentle an quick hands and attached an IV, while she was talking.

 

“You're a little bit dehydrated, so I'm giving you some fluids. I'm also giving you a little painkiller, that should help with the worst of the pain.”

 

He nodded approvingly, but he kept insisting to his former task. “What about Aidan?”

 

“Can't tell right now, for it is you, I'm working on. But when we're done with your injuries, I'm going to ask my colleagues, alright? But at first I have to take a look at this leg of yours...”

 

And then there was was pain. Blinding pain and only pain.

 

_Screw you, bloody painkillers. Do. Your. Job. MAKE. IT. STOP!!!_

 

He felt his pants being cut from his leg, his boot – with the help of a strong pair of scissors – being yanked from his foot and then he couldn't remember much. He felt nauseous and dizzy and he started trembling so hard, that he could actually feel his teeth chatter. He moaned in agony and prayed for unconsciousness.

 

“Please...” he whined, begging for a relieve.

 

“I'm really sorry, Richard. It's almost done, I promise. You're doing great, we're almost there... The pain meds should've already kick in ...”

 

Richard let out a tiny whimper, when the pain finally lessend. Sweating, trembling and eyes closing he let himself fall back on the stretcher. He did not care anymore what they did to him and his leg. He just wanted it to be over.

 

“Fred? We're leaving with him by ambulance, so you'll have the chopper for your guy, alright?”

 

Hanna got up from the ground and took a step towards her colleagues. Richards eyes involuntarily followed her voice and movement, and he finally caught a glimpse of several medics hovering over a very still form, lying on the ground bare chested with a mop of dark curls.

 

The one Hannah had addressed as Fred only nodded and gave Hannah the thump up. “Tube's in” another one called, “O2 sats are climbing, but BP is going down the drain. Pulse is 120.”

 

“Shit, … give him another dose ...” That was the guy called Fred, who seemed to be in charge of the whole rescue team, but Richard couldn't understand what sort of dose Aidan should get, because Hannah was back at him, her eyes connecting with his, demanding his full attention.

 

“We're going to take you to the hospital now, Richard, where they will take proper care of your leg and where you can rest and recover. You're going to be fine, Richard, I promise. I've already givens you a nice shot of painkillers and a mild sedative, so transport will be as comfortable as possible, okay?”

 

“And Aidan?”

 

“He'll be brought in by helicopter as soon as my colleagues get him stabilized.”

 

“How bad is it?”

 

He could see her frowning. The young woman seemed to ponder the right words to chose. “I don't know the extent of his injuries, but I can assure you, he's in good hands with Fred. He's one of the best emergency doctors I know and I can assure you, he's doing everything he can ... Okay guys”, she said to the paramedics, obviously waiting for her command, “ready for take-off.”

 

But before the two guy could take his stretcher, something occurred to him.

 

_Oh my god, how could you forget that? x_

 

“Wait...”

 

“What...? What's wrong? We really should move...”

 

_You need to tell her._

 

_No, you don't. They have to save him._

 

_They will do everything they can. Knowing or not. But he would want them to know._

 

_I can't..._

 

His internal monologue went unnoticed by Hannah and her paramedics. They were waiting impatiently for his answer.

 

“Richard, what? We need to ...”

 

“He's an organ donor.”

 

Now the words were out.

 

“He has the form in his wallet, I found it there, and must've left it in the car. But, please, … you have to save him, please, don't stop fighting for him....” Richard was begging fervently, when he saw Hannahs startled face... “Please.”

 

The young doctor lowered herself towards him an squeezed his shoulder gently. “Hey … what are you thinking? Of course Fred will fight for him. He fights for all of his patients. He'll never give up – on on anybody. But nevertheless … I have to tell him.”

 

And with a last squeeze of his hand she turned to Fred again: “Fred? Listen, Richard here says, your guy's an organ donor. He has a form in his wallet …. I … I just thought you should know.”

 

Richard could not see Fred's face when he answered, but he could hear the clenched teeth and the heavy panting of a very determined man: “He. Won't. Need. That. Not today. Not under my watch.”

 

Richard wanted to kiss that guy. He let out his breath and finally allowed himself to close his eyes. It felt strange being lifted up on a stretcher and get carried away. The stretcher swayed a bit and he did not know, if he really could trust the guys who carried him, but right now he couldn't care less. He tried to sleep to the fading noises of the crash scene, when he hear the distant shouting: “Damn it, he's crashing...”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still apologising for my poor english. Please let me know what I can do to improve my writing. I hope you can enjoy the story nevertheless.


	12. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to thank you all for your wonderful comments. I'm so happy that the story still has its audience. You're really the best. I'd give you kudos, if I could :-)

He knew, he should feel shocked. The whole ride in the racing ambulance he was waiting for the fear to come. The fear of falling asleep and waking up to a different world. A world where one person, whose presence he had always taken for granted, was suddenly gone. Only the fear did not come.

 

All he could feel was tiredness, exhaustion, apathy. He simply felt numb. Whatever happened now with Aidan or with himself was out of his hands and he couldn't care less about it. And whatever Hannah had given him, did a pretty good job in his system.

 

He couldn't remember much of the next few hours. He remembered more prodding and touching, x-rays and an MRI and – embarrassingly enough – the replacement of his clothes by a blue hospital gown with an open back. At some point Hannah McLeary had taken her leave and left him in the care of a guy who introduced himself as Dr. Jim Jameson. Richard couldn't help but ask himself why some parents literally did everything to give their children a hard time. With a name like that, Richard imagined him as the victim of constant mocking and joking at school. But nevertheless Jim Jameson seemed to be a good natured middle-aged guy with a red face, red hair, freckles and a soft voice. While he put a cast on Richards leg with quick and gentle hands, he told that he was indeed very lucky.

 

“It's a clean break of the tibia, which means the shin. With an injury like this you won't need any surgery, but you're going to keep us company for at least two weeks – that is until we feel save to leave you to the care of your family or friends. Your nose, although it looks like you're a boxing champion after an unsuccessful match, thankfully is not broken. It's only bruised and badly swollen from your encounter with the airbag. But I can assure you that, as soon as the swelling goes down, you'll be as handsome as ever. You also have a grade two concussion, string burns from the seat belt and, apart from that, bruises and a few smaller cuts. Nothing a decent amount of time, proper rest and good care could not heal. You just have to be patient. We've set you up on some nice painkillers, so you can sleep without being troubled too much, because that's exactly what you need right now. Rest, fluids and some light food in your belly, am I right? So just relax and get some sleep, you're gonna feel much better in the morning. That's a promise. ….”

 

_Does that annoying red head ever stop talking? Just shut the hell up … SHUT UP...._

 

Richard screamed internally, but despite his poor state – physically and mentally – he was still too polite to really yell at the guy. Nevertheless, Richard desperately wished to sleep, not only because he was tired to the bone, but also because sleep meant falling into the mercy of oblivion. He would be finally allowed to shut down his system, his thoughts, his memories and to lock out the burning question he should ask but refused to do so.

 

_What if …_

 

He shut his eyes closed and tried to block out the rambling voice of the freckled doctor. He barely realized being settled in a large private room, still hooked up on an IV in his left hand and gently covered with a warm and soft blanket. He was fast asleep, before the nurse who was in charge of his ward had closed the door behind her.

 

It was already dawn, when Richard opened his eyes again. Pale light illuminated the room and gave the very white walls and bed-sheets a gray hue. With a soft groan he took in his surroundings. The nightstand with a bottle of water, a bottle of grapefruit juice – who the hell knew that grapefruit was his favourite? – and two empty glasses on it. The large TV on the wall, placed in the perfect angle to his bed. A wooden door that lead probably to his private little bathroom – Richard refused to think about the matters of his personal hygiene right now – and a square table with two chairs on the other side of the room. Not unusual so far. The only thing, Richard was sure did not originally belong to the fittings, was the rather small figure, slumped in one of the chairs with its legs propped up on the table, peacefully sleeping and snoring with an open mouth.

 

Dean.

 

Sweet little Dean. Richard had never been so happy to see the young Kiwi. He knew, he probably should not wake him up, but on the other hand he desperately wished to hear a familiar voice, longed to look into familiar eyes and hoped beyond hope that he would tell him that everything was alright.

 

Carefully he cleared his throat. Dean did not stir.

 

He tried again, a bit louder this time. Dean did not stir.

 

Richard grunted displeased. The Kiwi was out cold.

 

“Dean?” Richard's deep and dark voice rumbled through the quiet room, a bit louder than he had actually intended. But that was when Dean finally awoke with a soft groan followed by a hearty sneeze. Running a hand through his unruly blond curls and blinking heavily he obviously needed a moment to remember where he was right now and why. When he recognized Richard's slightly amused eyes resting on him, he practically jumped from his seat.

 

“Oh my God, Richard, you're awake. Hey buddy, how are you feeling?”

 

Carrying his seat to Richard's bedside with one hand and fumbling in his jeans pocket with the other he still managed to bring a bright smile to his injured cast-mate. He retrieved a paper handkerchief out of his pocket and started blowing his still bright red nose, even before Richard could answer.

 

“Sorry. Still having the sniffles.”

 

“Thank god for the sniffles”, Richard dryly replied. “Otherwise we probably would share a room here. Lucky bastard.”

 

Dean's face fell at this comment, Richard noticed regretfully. He did not want to make Dean feel bad for the fact that he wasn't in the car. On the contrary: he was quite grateful, that Dean and the other two men had stayed back.

 

“Hey, don't look like that. I'm sorry. I'm just glad, you're safe, that's all.”

 

“Thank you. Yeah, well... you're right … that damn cold had turned out rather well for me, I guess. But still, how are you feeling?”

 

Richard considered the question for a while.

 

“Alright, I guess. Although that's mostly due to the painkillers. They set me up on the good stuff, I think.”

 

He did no know how to continue. There were so many questions racing through his mind, but he did not know if he really wanted to get an honest reply. A knot of worry suddenly settled in his stomach instead of this night's numbness and exhaustion. The joy of seeing Dean was within a heartbeat replaced by heavy fear.

 

_What if …_

 

He looked in Dean's face to get unsaid answers for his silent questions. As long as there were no words, nothing was fact. Only words made facts and therefore he did not wish to speak nor to hear the words Dean had to say. Dean's face was pale, except for his still red shimmering nose and his red rimmed eyes. He sported a blond stubble on his cheeks and with his unkempt hair, he looked like he hadn't slept in a week. But even this poor state was no answer to Richard, for the boy had a terrible cold and had spent half of the night in this uncomfortable visitor's chair.

 

It was a little bit like Schroedinger's cat, Richard thought. The imaginative cat put in a box with some sort of poison. As long no one was looking in the box the cat could as well be dead as it could be alive. So in this state the cat would be dead and alive at the same time. And at least for now, Richard refused to look under the lid.

 

_What if …_

 

“How … how … did they find us?” A question like that was safe. If he got the timing right, they had been found Saturday night, although no one was supposed to search for them before Sunday evening.

 

“Did the hikeres took notice of us? Or did you have a lucky hunch?”

 

Dean snorted humorless. “Lucky hunch? Yeah, maybe something like that … I … I received a phone call from Aidan's mother. Aidan had given her my number when he'd couldn't find his phone a couple of weeks ago, remember? Well, yeah, … so, she called me, telling me that she were a little bit worried, for it was her birthday yesterday and Aidan hadn't called her and she could not reach him either ...”

 

“She what?” The words went out, before Richard was able to stop them.

 

“He always calls. He does. There wasn't a birthday of hers, when he didn't. It … it seems to be a thing in the familiy. I don't know, but … yeah … she … she was so sure of that, and so convincing … she got me worried. First, I thought, 'stupid nonsense'. Why on earth would there something be wrong? But then there was this constant nagging in my brain that said 'but what if...', 'but what if...'. That's when I called Peter.”

 

“And …?”

 

“He did not laugh, Richard. He just got quiet and sent for a searching party. Immediately. He did not even ask questions. He just went into action. It was really strange. And scary.”

 

“ _I cannot even call my mother for her birthday, which is today, because I'm sitting in this fucking car with a crashed door and a crashed body and I don't have service. It sucks. It sucks big time.”_

 

Richard recalled Aidans words. He recalled the boy being at the brink of tears when he could not speak to his mom on her birthday. He recalled Aidan speaking of his family and he understood. He knew why Peter did not laugh. And he knew why Aidan's mother had sensed that her son was in trouble. Did she already know what happened?

 

_What if ...?_

 

“Do you know something about Aidan, Dean?”

 

Dean's eyes flickered a bit and his gaze avoided Richard's as if he did not want to look at him.

 

“Not really, no.”

 

“What do you mean 'not really'...”

 

“The hospital staff cannot give me any information, Rich. It's Peter they talk to. You know, we both rushed to the hospital when we learned that you two had been found. When we arrived here, they told us, that you were already asleep and Aidan went straight into surgery … They said it would take hours, until they could tell us anything … that's why Peter decided that he doesn't want to wait here and pace traces in front of the OR. So he's probably pacing traces in his own living room and driving Franny mad. I thought it would be wise to stay with you. I didn't want you to wake up with no one by your side … “

 

Dean stopped, swallowed and shook his head.

 

“I haven't heard anything from Peter just yet. But … you know … maybe that's good news. I mean, if he did not make it through surgery we'd already knew that, wouldn't we?”

 

Richard nodded silently. Yeah, maybe it was good news. Maybe it wasn't.

 

_What if …_

 

“Did they say something about his injuries?”

 

Dean flinched at the question. Richard's eyes narrowed. He knew there was something, Dean wasn't telling him. Dean's honest and innocent face was twisted with discomfort and he tried to look away from Richard's penetrating gaze.

 

“Don't play hide and seek with me, Dean. What did they say?”

 

As much as he was trying to avoid the issue a few minutes ago, now he was determined to find out what was going on. He just _had_ to know.

 

_What if …_

 

The young Kiwi squirmed under Richard's demanding look. It was a very unfair constellation, because Richard could indeed stare someone to the ground and Dean wasn't able to lye.

 

“He's in bad shape, Rich. When they talked to Peter, they said something about internal bleeding … they had to cut him open to see the extent of the damage. There wasn't even enough time to perform an MRI … They … they'd lost him, Rich … during the flight to the hospital … they'd lost him … they brought him back, but … I don't know more ... I'm sorry, Rich, I didn't want to tell you …”

 

He had known. Somewhere in the back of his mind he had already known.

 

“ _Damn it, he's crashing.”_

 

He had heard the words and he had known. Only he hadn't realized what the words meant. Really meant. Not until now. So he had actually killed a man. At least for a few seconds. But thanks to some strange kind of mercy – and the skilled hands of Doctor Fred – that man was still there. Brought back to life. And now he was fighting for this life. At least Richard hoped he was.

 

_What if …_

 

_You have to fight, Aidan. You cannot give up. You have to fight._

 

Richard knew that Dean was crying silently beside his bed, but he didn't see it. He was facing the opposite side of the room, the white wall with the wooden door, repeating his mantra “You have to fight.” He just felt Deans small hand on his forehead, his hair, his cheek and then he heard his scratchy voice.

 

“It's okay to be scared, my big friend. We all are. I'm sure he'll pull through, because that's what he does, but it's normal to worry. You did so well during the last day, you were so strong. So it's okay to let go now, big guy. I'm here. Just let go.”

 

And then Richard did.

 


	13. Chapter 12

“ _Richard Armitage. I'm playing Thorin.”_

 

“ _Heya, nice to meet you. Aidan Turner. Since they cancelled my role as an elf I'm supposed to play Kíli, the dwarf.”_

 

_The smile of the young man with the soft Irish lilt was friendly and genuine, his face bright and remarkably pretty. Dark eyes sparkled with excitement, dark curls, dancing on his forehead, gave him a somewhat dashing and boyish look._

 

“ _Kíli? So you happen to be my nephew …”_

 

“ _Really? Is that so? I didn't finish the book yet. To be honest, I stopped reading when the dwarves had entered Bilbo's home. I know, it's embarrassing, but I got bored to tears reading the thing ...“_

 

_Beside Richard someone burst into laughter._

 

“ _For the love of God, Aidan, stop it”, Martin hiccuped with a broad grin on his face and tears in his eyes. “If you don't stop immediately, Richard here will have a stroke. You cannot say, that the book was boring. At least not to him. I'm sure he has read everything Tolkien has ever written and more.”_

 

“ _Oh, fuck … So I screwed up big time, didn't I?”_

 

“ _You did, mate.” Martin was pretending to wipe the tears from his eyes. “You sure did. Rich will never take you seriously. He'll always be like 'oh my, that's the kid, that did not even read The Hobbit, won't you, Rich?”_

 

“ _Shut up, Martin, I'm not that bad”, Richard protested. Only he knew, he was._

 

_\----------------_

 

“He's made it through surgery.” Peter sat on a visitor's chair beside Richard's hospital bed, kneading his hands. Richard noticed the director's pale face, the furrowed brow and the dark circles under his eyes. “He's in intensive care right now.”

 

“What did they say? Come on, Pete, tell me.”

 

“That he's a fighter.”

 

_\----------------_

 

_Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Swish. The training sword cut through the air and stopped with a gentle touch at Richard's neck._

 

“ _Victory is mine, Armitage.”_

 

“ _Never, Turner. ''Tis but a scratch.”_

 

“ _A scratch? I just sliced your neck, mate. You're as dead as a doornail.”_

 

“ _We call it a drawn.”_

 

“ _Your choice, Black Knight. Come on.”_

 

_Clang. Clang. Clang, Clang. Thud._

 

_The tip of Aidan's sword pointed now to Richard's belly._

 

“ _Sorry, mate, but you're dead. Again. Ready to admit defeat?” Aidan teased._

 

_Richard cut back a snarky comment and turned his head to their sword-master Ralph._

 

“ _Good job, both of you. Richard, you just have to improve your footwork a little bit. You need to be quicker. And you, you're quite the fighter, Aidan, aren't you? Did you have sword training before? Anyway, well done.”_

 

_\----------------_

 

As if to fill the silence in the white hospital room, Peter reached for the water bottle on Richard's night-stand with as much noise as possible and filled three glasses. One for Richard, one for Dean, one for himself, but no one touched them. Running a hand through his already messy hair, Peter let out a frustrated sigh.

 

“You two scared the living daylights out of me, you know that? When I got the call, that Dean here was right and you were indeed found in a car wreck somewhere in the woods, I was literally at the verge of a heart attack.”

 

“I'm sorry, Pete. I really am. I cannot even tell you what happened exactly. It all happened so fast.” Richard felt himself overwhelmed by the feeling of guilt.

 

“Don't bother yourself”, Peter said, smiling encouragingly. “It's not your fault, it was an accident and accidents happen. I'm just glad, that they got to you in time and that you made it out alive. That is what counts.”

 

“Will Aidan pull through?”

 

Peter sighed again.

 

_\----------------_

 

“ _Stop fidgeting. You really are the worst of all actors, you know? Can't you just hold still for another minute?” Make-up Mia let out a frustrated sigh while finishing Aidan's make-up._

 

“ _Alright, done. Now look at you. How handsome you are … You're gonna be the heartthrob of the dwarves … a real eye-candy. Just turn around and show yourself. What do you say, Richard? Do you like your nephew's new look?”_

 

_Richard sized Aidan up from head to toe, then gave Mia an appreciative nod. The make-up artist had completely changed the look of the brunet dwarf prince. She had removed the strong forehead with the false eybrows, the heavy chin an the chubby nose, that had given the young man a stern look. What remained was more or less Aidan's own face with a stubble on his cheeks and chin and only a slightly prolonged nose. The wig with long dark hair matched perfectly with the bronze tan of the skin and the green-brown eyes and it framed his high cheekbones and the sharp outlined face. Handsome indeed and incredibly young, Richard thought. This new Kíli did not look like a man in his late twenties at all. “Well, … I think it's perfect for the part, he's gonna play. Good job, Mia, really.”_

 

_\----------------_

 

“He's stable for now, but the next 24 hours will be critical.” Peter finally decided to go on, his eyes downcast. “It was touch and go during surgery. But as they said, he's a fighter. And he's young, healthy and strong … He won't give up that easily. He'll be back being a pain in your sorry behind sooner than you wish. I'm sure of that.”

 

_\----------------_

 

“ _Can't you be serious just for once?” Richard bellowed angrily at his cast-mate. “This isn't kindergarten, this is an actual job, in case you hadn't noticed.”_

 

“ _Jesus, Rich”, Aidan rolled his eyes. “It was just a joke. Life is serious enough.”_

 

“ _But we're not doing this for fun. There are people w-o-r-k-i-n-g. And that's why I expect you to take this seriously. Now go on and deliver your lines.”_

 

“ _Sometimes I ask myself, if the corners of your mouth actually can move upwards, when you're not paid for”, Aidan murmured under his breath. “Must be boring being you.”_

 

“ _I heard that.”_

 

“ _Good.”_

 

_\----------------_

 

“That means … no lasting damages?”

 

Richard hesitated to ask the question, but he had to know.

 

Peter seemed to squirm on his seat. Dean also shifted uncomfortably. “They can't tell us right now. I'm not gonna lie to you, his injuries are severe, but … as they said, he's young and healthy, which means, his chances are good. If he's gonna make it through the next day and if there are no further complications, they are quite confident that he's gonna make a full recovery, yes.”

 

“There are a lot of 'Ifs' in that sentence.”

 

“I know and I wish I could tell you the same without all the 'Ifs'. But right now, it's all I can give you. … I'm sorry.”

 

“I guess, we are praying for the 'Ifs' then...”

 

“We do, Richard”, Peter said while taking Richards hand into his own. “We do.”

 

_\----------------_

 

“ _Don't be so hard on the boy, will you?”_

 

“ _Oh come on, Martin. Sometimes he's acting like a child. He really has a lot to learn.”_

 

“ _And he will. In due time.”_

 

_This isn't acting school anymore. This is a real job, for god's sakes. And a really important one._

 

“ _And you think he doesn't know that? You think, he doesn't care? This job scares the shit out of him. And so do you.”_

 

“ _I do?”_

 

“ _Yes, of course, you do. You're Richard Armitage. The great actor. The one he really admires. And the one who always scolds him like a three-year-old.”_

 

“ _Sometimes he's behaves like a three-year-old …”_

 

“ _Oh Richard, don't you get it? It's exactly what we need. There are fourteen male actors, stuck together for nearly two years. Every one of them is kind of an alpha male. Aidan's silly behaviour, his jokes, his cheerfulness are like a valve for too much testosterone. And the mates love him for that. He's easy going, chilled out, a good listener and he has the fantastic ability to establish a light atmosphere. Let him be, Richard. He's a good boy. Just give him a chance.”_

 

_\----------------_

 

“What injuries are we talking about?”

 

“I was afraid, you'd be asking me that. Well, I'm not a medic and I'm not sure I understood everything they told me … ”

 

“Peter, please. Just tell me, what you know.” Richard tried hard to stay patient, when the director kept rambling on.

 

“Fine”, Peter nodded. “Well, what I got from his doctors is that he has some kind of a head trauma, which means a hairline fracture to the skull and a grade three concussion. He's doing well for now, but they are worrying, that the pressure in his brain is increasing. If that's the case they have to perform another surgery to remove a part of the bone. They are monitoring him closely.”

 

“Oh my god … will he … will he be alright? I mean … What about brain damage?”

 

“That is why he's kept in the ICU under constant surveillance. But … I think we will learn about the extent of the damage, when he wakes up.”

 

“He's still unconscious?”

 

“Heavily sedated and kept under a strict management of narcotics and pain medicine, so he can rest comfortably.”

 

Richard had to swallow hard to keep his nausea at bay. “But there's more, isn't it?”

 

“Yeah .... It seems that his torso bore the brunt of the impact, so there are several fractured ribs and something, they called 'lung contusion', and a ruptured diaphragm. So it's more or less his respiratory system that got afflicted. They have him on a ventilator for now to make sure he get's enough oxygen, but they are positive, that he will breathe on his own in at least one or two days. The diaphragm got fixed during surgery, but since you two were left untreated for like ten hours or so these injuries had time to cause a severe blood loss. They obviously had some trouble to keep his circulation running and, as I said, things weren't looking good for quite some time during surgery. But again: he's stable, at least for now. And apart from that there is a cracked collarbone and lots of cuts and bruises, just like you have. Nothing that won't heal in time.”

 

“Oh god, Peter. What have I done?”

 

“It was an accident, Richard. I told you. It could have happened to anybody.”

 

“But it happened to me, Pete. That's the point.”

 

_\----------------_

 

“ _Have you met my new brother, Rich? He arrived yesterday.”_

 

“ _Not yet. I hope you choose him well.”_

 

“ _I'm sure, I did. He seems really nice. His name's Dean O'Gorman, he's a Kiwi and did some fantasy-supernatural-stuff before. He's also quite short. He could nearly fit in your pocket. Peter said, they will figure something out, so Fíli and Kíli will be more or less the same height. He laughs a lot and has dimples in his chin. So, yeah, it's gonna be fun to work with him ... Can't wait to start.”_

 

“ _You seem pretty exited.”_

 

“ _I am. It's … uhhm, I think, I'm glad, that things turned out the way they did.”_

 

_Richard nodded, biting his bottom lip. He knew what Aidan did not say. That Dean's predecessor Rob had been acting like a real jerk around him. That he had constantly tried to undermine Aidan's work. That he had been mean and cruel and hurtful. And that Aidan had suffered silently with no one noticing. The entire cast had no idea that their young co-star was ready to leave the job just to get his peace back. Sure, Rob had been a pain in everybody's ass, but they did not know that Aidan took the most of it._

 

_It was Martin who first got aware of Rob's behaviour and started to defend his Irish collegue. When that did not help, he talked to Peter. Two weeks later Rob was gone. “Personal reasons”, Peter had said. But when he encouragingly squeezed Aidan's shoulder and gave him a light hug, everyone knew that Rob's “personal reasons” had dark curls and an Irish accent._

 

“ _I didn't know, Rob had given you such a hard time.” Richard finally said._

 

“ _No, you didn't. The words stung in Richard's ears._

 

“ _I'm sure, everything will be working out now”, he assured Aidan, but what he thought was: “I'm sorry, I failed you, kid.”_

 

_\----------------_

 

Richard's gaze travelled from Peter to Dean, who was still sitting in his chair, his feet drawn up, hugging his knees. He saw traces of tears on the other ones cheeks and heard the suppressed sniffling. Dean and Aidan had clicked immediately. From their very first day on set they had been nearly inseparable, just like Peter had intended it for the relationship of Fíli and Kíli. Dean replacing Rob had worked wonders, not only to the chemistry between the two royal brothers, but also to the atmosphere among the other dwarves. They were a good team. Kind of a family, even. A family, that should not be ripped apart.

 

Richard knew there was still one question left …

 

“What will you do, Peter? How will you go on? With the shooting? I mean without me … and Aidan?”

 

Peter sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose as if he could find the answers there. "That is a tough subject. Right now, I can't really tell you. Andy's talking with our insurance guy as we speak. I mean, your doctor said, you'll be unable to work for at least six to eight weeks. And after that, you need some training until you'll be able to jump and run again. So. Let's say … twelve weeks … “

 

Richard felt himself pale and shrink in his hospital bed. Twelve weeks. He could as well as pack his bags once he was released from the hospital and take Aidan with him. Peter would never loose twelve weeks of shooting. Never.

 

Peter seemed to read his mind.

 

“Don't make a face like that. I'm not looking for a new Thorin. I don't think anyone could replace you. You are my Thorin and that's it. Plus, to start anew would cost us much more than waiting for you to recover. So, right now, I'm thinking of rescheduling the scenes with Thorin. If Cumberbatch is already available, which seems to be the case, we can bring the Smaug-Bilbo scenes forward. We also can do some some elven scenes with Legolas, Tauriel and Thranduil where no dwarf is needed. That should give you enough time to recover. And as long as you can't run, we can still do the close-ups and scenes, where Thorin is in a sitting position. Plus, we still have your stunt-guy. He can do a lot of the running, fighting and riding for you ... so, I'm sure thing will work out at the end.“

 

“And … Aidan?”

 

Peter sighed again, frowned and kept quiet for a while. “I don't want to lose the boy. I wanted him in this film from the very beginning and I refuse to give up on him now. That's why I really hope, he will recover and be able to go on. If that is the case, I'll make sure, he can go on, I promise. But to be honest: I think, this production is the least of his problems right now.”

 

_\----------------_

 

“ _Have you seen Aidan, Dean? I thought, we could rehearse the next scene … “_

 

“ _Shhhhh, turn it down a little bit, will you?” Dean raised his eyebrows and chuckled slightly._

 

“ _What? Why … I … No, not really !!!” Richard's gaze followed the direction of Dean's dwarfish finger and stopped at a slender form, curled up in a quiet corner of the studio, sound asleep._

 

“ _He fell asleep mid-sentence.” Dean smiled like a proud parent at the crib of his newborn. “Don't wake him up, just let him sleep for a few minutes longer.” And with that Dean kneeled beside his dark-haired friend and covered him gently with Fíli's coat._

 

“ _Don't make a face. It's chilly in here and he's already shivering a little bit.”_

 

“ _But the rehearsal ...”_

 

_Dean just silenced him again by bringing a finger to his lips. “The rehearsal can wait. Hush now, Rich, and let him sleep. He looks too cute when he sleeps, doesn't he?”_

 

_And although Richard hated to admit it, he couldn't agree more._

 

_\----------------_

 

“Peter?”

 

“Yes, Rich?”

 

“I need to see him.”

 


	14. Chapter 13

It had taken Richard a a whole day of constant begging and pleading until the doctors found it safe for him to be out of bed and for Aidan to get a visitor. A whole day, where nurses were fuzzing over him to make sure he was comfortable. A whole day, where sweet little Dean was always by his side. The nurses brought food, tea, juice and painkillers, and when he told them that he was sick of that coloured water they called tea, one of the nurses sneeked in an actual cup of coffee from their own coffee-maker. Dean brought him books and magazines, his repaired mobile from the apple store, his own pyjamas and a toothbrush and asked him how he was feeling every thirty minutes.

 

It was weird being the centre of attention. Weird being the one they were fuzzing over. Weird feeling nothing but warm and gentle hands, hearing soft and friendly voices and seeing friendly smiling faces. He really wasn't sure, if he liked it. And he definitely wasn't sure, he deserved it.

 

_What are they doing to Aidan right now?_

 

When Richard was finally allowed to see his young co-star, he was actually glad, Dean was with him. He knew, that Aidan was still unconscious, he knew that the sight of a person, weak and broken, hooked on several machines on the ICU was scary as hell, and he did not want to have to face it alone. Dean's presence felt surprisingly comforting and gave him a strength he never knew he would need.

 

Dean was steering the wheelchair towards the ICU. When they were standing in front of room 507, Dean turned the chair backwards to pry the door open with his right hand and to pull him inside with his left. It wasn't until Dean turned the chair around that he already heard the beeping noise of the heart monitor and a strange swooshing sound that he figured to be the ventilator, that forced air into Aidan's damaged lung. He felt the young Kiwi freeze in his movement and heard him gasping. Only a second later, he understood why.

 

Aidan looked frail in the white hospital bed, vulnerable with the breathing tube down his throat. His face was nearly as white as the bedsheets, only the unkempt black curls and the stubble on his cheeks stood out in a stark contrast. A white bandage on his left temple and a dark bruise, that crept out from under the cotton and was spread over the left side of his face, showed where his head had hit side beam of the car. The bandage, that covered his broken collarbone, peeked out of the hem of Aidan's hospital gown. His other injuries, Richard supposed, were hidden under said gown and the sheets. It frightened to think of the broken ribs – how much, he did not know – and the surgical wound on his upper abdomen, where they had fixed his diaphragm.

 

But what scared Richard the most was the fact that Aidan was lying still. Seeing him unmoving felt all wrong, for the young Irish man was never still. Even when he was supposed to keep quiet, his hands were still twitching and fumbling with something they had picked up from the table or found in his pockets and driving Richard mad. Now these hands and arms did nothing. They lay just limp and cold beside Aidan's slim body, wearing nothing but a blue bracelet with his name on it on the wrist, a blood pressure cuff on the upper arm and bearing needles in the back of both hands.

 

Ten minutes at Aidan's bedside was all Richard managed. Ten minutes looking at the silent young man, listening to the monotone swooshing of the ventilator and counting every quite annoying heartbeat-beep. Ten minutes, until he begged Dean to take him back to his room, to the safe shelter of his bed, where he was praying for mercy.

 

Two days later the ventilator was gone and replaced by a nasal cannula that provided Aidan's system with oxygen, but he was definitely breathing on his own. They had also reduced the amount of narcotics he was on, which had led to a quite stressful episode on the day before. The nurse, who pushed Richard's wheelchair to Aidan's room told him, that the boy had been very agitated and had been fighting the hospital stuff in sheer panic. It had needed three people and a lot of time to calm him down and to prevent him from hurting himself further. Despite his poor state he had showed an unexpected strength. Waking up had not been pretty.

 

Sitting beside Aidan's bed was still kind of surreal. Richard's brain refused to understand that the sleeping person under the sheets was in fact his cast-mate and … yes: friend. For a few minutes Richard was just watching him, took in his pale and gaunt features, his closed eyes with the long lashes and the still too still hands. He hesitated to touch him, although he longed for the physical confirmation, that the person in this bed was real. Real and alive.

 

_Oh, come on, he won't bite._

 

Aidan's hand was warmer than he had expected. And what he definitely did not expect was the weak squeeze he felt, when he gently took it in his own. Neither did he expect the soft moan, that escaped Aidan's lips, when he squeezed back.

 

_Oh, dear Lord. He's awake._

 

Well, maybe awake did not describe Aidan's condition precisely. Awake meant lucid and comprehending, which Aidan sure as hell was not. He had barely opened his eyes and was turning his head from one side to another with a groan. Richard doubted, that he had any idea of what was going on. But the pained grimace, that merged together with a hint of fear, was enough for Richard to know, that he needed comfort. That's when he pushed his own fear aside and ran a gentle hand through Aidan's dark hair and tentatively started talking to the young man.

 

“Shhhh, little one, it's alright. There's no need to be afraid, right? You're in the hospital. We had a car accident, remember? But now we are both safe. You're safe. Shhhhh …. shhhhhhh … it's fine. You're gonna be fine. Just relax and rest.”

 

He was babbling. Rambling on. Whispering stupid words into the younger man's ear, stroking his his head and cheeks just to keep him calm.

 

Aidan's moaning intensified, although he still wasn't coherent. Richard could not tell, if he was in pain or just distressed because of his undefined state between sleep and consciousness.

 

“Rich'rd?”

 

_He recognises me._

 

“Hey, hey, kiddo. You're talking... that's good, very good. I'm right here, Aidan, just relax.”

 

“Whaa...?”

 

Talking seemed to be pretty hard, forming proper sentences out of question. But nevertheless, Aidan had recognised him and was talking. Richard felt a happy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Of course the boy was tired and weak. But he was talking. TALKING. And he knew his name. What else could he ask for?

 

“Y're … smi...ling. That's … odd. But … I … like … it.” Aidan's words were barely a whisper, his voice raspy and horse from the breathing tube and disuse. But to Richard the sound was beautiful.

 

“You stupid, little idiot. Of course, I'm smiling. I'm just glad to hear you talking.”

 

“S',,,nce when?”

 

“Since you scared the crap out of me, you dork. So just keep talking, will you? It's good to hear your voice.”

 

“Mmmmhhhh … try...ing...”

 

Aidan frowned and was breathing heavily. The short conversation had clearly exhausted him.

 

Richard still had his hand on Aidan's temple and kept painting circles on his forehead with his thump.

 

“Don't stress yourself. It's fine, I can see how tired you are, and I know you must feel poorly.”

 

“S' … fine. Head h'rts. 'nd breath'ng. And … t'red, yes. Wha'... 'bout ya?”

 

“I'm okay. Well, mostly. Broken shin. And a concussion. Nothing, time won't heal.”

 

“Good.”

 

“Go back to sleep, kid. You need the rest. I'll be back tomorrow, okay?”

 

“Mmmhh …” Aidan's eyes were already drifting shut. “R'ch?”

 

“What is it?”

 

“M glad… y're … here...”

 

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++

 

 

 

“I want to go home”, Aidan muttered, his eyes stubbornly glued to the closed door, face still pale, but with reddened cheeks.

 

It was day five, since Richard had visited Aidan for the first time in the hospital. The young Irish man was slightly propped up in his bed – and pouting. He was still being kept in the ICU, for he was running a concerning temperature and gave the doctors quite a headache with his circulatory problems. But he was already sick of the hospital, sick of the ICU, sick of the constant surveillance and definitely sick of feeling so ill and weak. And to make things even worse he had just learned, that his mom got stuck at Dubai airport and wasn't able to get a connecting flight to Sydney or Melbourne and then to Wellington.

 

“Pete should never have told her to come. Now she's stuck at that fucking airport for days, has to stay away from work just to get here … This sucks, Richard. I mean, come on, it wasn't _that_ bad ...”

 

Richard replied that last comment with a dry snort.

 

“Don't be stupid, Aidan. Your mom would _walk_ around the world just to see you. The Lady saved your sorry arse, because she was worried, and mine, too. Plus ...” and that was when his voice got a bit deeper, “it was _that_ bad. You nearly died out there and you're still not out of the woods yet. They are quite concerned, that you're developing pneumonia. So stop complaining and cooperate with the doctors, will you?”

 

Aidan bit his bottom lip. “Touché, big guy. I'll be good. But I still feel bad, knowing she's stuck somewhere just because of me. What about your parents. Are they coming, too?”

 

Richard let out a relived sigh. “Hell, no. I had my mom on the phone for nearly an hour two days ago. I think, I kind of slept through half of the talk. But, yeah, I could convince her, that I'm fine and she had to stay home. She's 72. She should not have to travel that far.”

 

“And...?”

 

“What 'and'?”

 

“There's definitely an 'and' involved and I want to hear it.”

 

“Well, I love her very much, I really do, and she's a sweet and caring person....”

 

“But?”

 

“That's just it. She's a sweet and caring person. And with that she can drive me crazy. I don't handle too much caring thing too well.”

 

Richard smiled, when he heard Aidan laughing. Not even eight days ago he would be quite annoyed, whenever Aidan opened his mouth and now Aidan's laughter seemed to be the most beautiful sound in the world. He never wanted him to stop. That hope though was short-lived. Aidan yelped in pain when his ribs got too aggravated and his damaged lung constricted painfully.

 

Richard did not even try to mask his concern. “Hey, hey, easy there. Slow breaths, okay? Sorry, I made you laugh. You need me to call the nurse?”

 

“S' fine. Still hurts t' breath though... need … to catch my breath. D'nt look ...like that...”

 

Richard didn't say anything. He knew, he looked worried. Well, he still was worried. With one hand he ran soothing circles on Aidan's back while he let the boy squeeze the other one. Considering the force Aidan used, Richard could tell that the young man was in a lot of pain.

 

When Aidan finally calmed down, he let himself fall back into his pillows, weak and exhausted.

 

“I'm so sick of it, Richard. This sucks, big time.”

 

“I know. But … you just have to be patient, Aidan. Look, a couple of days ago, you weren't even able to breath on your own, let alone sit up, talk or eat. You have improved so much. And you will improve further.”

 

_Be patient … look, who's talking..._

 

“But it's horrible. And embarrassing.”

 

“Oh come on, Aidan. Don't be childish. You're injured. You're healing. There's nothing to be embarrassed about. And I'm sure the hospital stuff here has seen and done worse. They are there to help you.”

 

“I can't even go to the toilet.” Aidan's cheeks went from feverish red to ashamed purple, when he spat out the words. “There's … there's a catheter … down there … a tube, that ends in a plastic bag. I'm peeing in a plastic bag without really noticing. If that's not embarrassing, then what is?”

 

Richard bit his lip, trying to suppress a smile. He knew exactly, how Aidan felt. He knew, how he would feel, if he were in his place. He watched the wary features of the young man, the pale face with the flushed cheeks and he felt the urge to console him. To say something, that made him feel better. Or simply to hug him. But since hugging was out of question, first because of his uncomfortable position in the wheelchair and second because of Aidan's injured torso, he confined himself to run his hand through Aidan's dark hair.

 

“I tell you, what is really embarrassing. It's when you're stuck in a car wreck with a broken leg and really have to pee. I mean, _really_ have to. Because the coffee you drank in the morning wants, no _needs_ , to get out. And since wetting yourself is out of question, your only possibility is the Tupperware box you found earlier in the backpack of your friend ... so now it's up to you to decide, what's worse: plastic bag or Tupperware box?”

 

He'd rather not told anyone about one of the worst moments of his life, but when he saw Aidan's face lighting up and split into a wide grin, he knew he did the right thing.

 

“You peed into my Tupperware box? Oh my, that's … gross … Okay, okay, Richard, you win … owww …. shit, … laughing's still a bad idea.” Aidan grimaced and panted heavily. “Where is this box now? I don't think, I want it back. Ever … “

 

Richard's laughter was honest. Obviously it was more than worth to share the Tupperware story, when it could finally cheer Aidan up.

 

“Well, to be honest, I would never return that box to you. Ever. But I'd be happy to buy you a new one.”

 

“Nah, don't need one. They are my mother's anyway and she has plenty of that stuff. She won't miss that one.” Aidan yawned. Richard noticed, that he was getting tired. Aidan's eyes were drooping, his speech got slower.

 

“I should probably go, so can take a little nap, huh?”

 

“No, please stay. I … hate being alone.”

 

“Alright, mate. I'll stay for lunch and after that you're going to get some sleep. And so am I, right?”

 

He did not miss the grimace, Aidan was pulling, when he mentioned lunch.

 

“What's with that face? What's wrong with having lunch now?”

 

“I'd prefer another subject.”

 

“Wrong answer. Try again, buddy.”

 

“Well, it's nearly as embarrassing as peeing in a plastic back. When I tried eating yesterday evening, it did not go very well. I was trembling so hard, I couldn't even hold a spoon. I was spilling this very disgusting soup all over me, and finally a very annoyed nurse not only had to clean me up, change the sheets and get me a new gown, no, she also had to _feed_ me. She had me _spoon fed_. Like a baby. I was so ashamed, I couldn't even look at her. And then, to make things worse, my stomach did not respond very well to that soup …”

 

“Oh no ...”

 

“Oh yes. I threw up everything that was inside me and more. So she had to do the cleaning and changing and everything all over again, and I knew from the look she threw at me, how much she hated me in that very moment. But to be honest, I couldn't have cared less, because the vomiting hurt so much and was so exhausting, I could only lie there and cry. It was just horrible.”

 

Richard reached for Aidan's hand automatically. He felt compassion for the poor guy, for he knew exactly, how he would feel in a situation like this with no control over his own body.”

 

“And breakfast?”

 

“There was a confusion in the kitchen. Instead of some porridge they got me a slice of grain bread and jam and I did not want to argue with the nurse of the day shift, because she was so busy, so I kind of skipped breakfast. Wasn't hungry anyway.”

 

Richard cursed inwardly. Aloud he said: “Aidan, that is bullshit. You have to eat. You need to regain your strength. Plus, I'm pretty sure that, if you're not eating, they will hook you up on a feeding tube sooner than you think. And I know that's not what you want. Are you hungry now?”

 

“Don't know. Maybe not ... and it's not lunchtime anyway.”

 

“Yeah, we'll see to that.” And with that Richard wheeled himself out of the door.

 

Minutes later he returned with a nurse beside him, carrying a tray with a bowl of soup and a bright smile on her face.

 

“Hey, love. Mr. Armitage said, you're a bit hungry now. That's great. Look, I brought you some broth and a slice of toast, just eat as much as you like. And call me, if you need anything else, okay?”

 

She sat the tray on Aidan's night-stand beside his bed, elevated the headboard of Aidan's bed a bit more and left the room.

 

“How on earth did you do that?” Aidan was looking at Richard with eyes as big as saucers.

 

“I can be charming, you know.”

 

“I'm deeply impressed.”

 

“Well, watch and learn. And now, let's try this broth as long as it's still hot.” Richard took the spoon, dipped t in the bowl and led it straight to Aidan's mouth. The other one's eyes grew wide.

 

“Nooo … You're not feeding me.”

 

“I am, and I will.”

 

“No, you won't.”

 

“Then do it yourself.”

 

Richard handed the spoon over to Aidan. The young man took it, albeit hesitantly, with trembling hands. Even the attempt to take a spoonful of the soup failed. Richard saw tears of embarrassment and exhaustion welling up in the young man's eyes and felt pity for him.

 

“Hey, hey .. It's fine. Just let me help you, okay? You're going to feel better and get stronger very soon. Right now, you need some help. That's fine. This is nothing to be ashamed of. Please, Aidan. I only want to help you.”

 

Again Aidan's cheeks flushed. But he nodded ever so slightly.

 

And with as much care as he could offer, Richard fed the younger man with a steady hand and encouraging words. He fed him until Aidan couldn't manage any more and tiredly closed his eyes.

 

“You did really well, buddy”, Richard murmured softly. “Really well. Now got to sleep and get better. I'll be back in the afternoon.”

 

“Mmmmhhh, thanks. ….Uhhm, Rich?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Can … can you just talk to me, until I go to sleep? Or read me something? It … would … just be nice to listen to your voice... Dean put something for me in the night-stand... please?”

 

“Shhh, …. sure. But you have to close your eyes and relax, alright?”

 

“'right.”

 

Richard rummaged through the drawer of Aidan's night-stand and nodded very pleased. He waited, until Aidan's features relaxed a bit and his breathing evened out. He was pretty sure, Aidan would not last more than two minutes, but he did not care. He cleared his throat and started reading:

 

“In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit....”

 


	15. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so, so sorry for this delay, but there was so much going on in my life, I had to put everything on hold. Last chapters are always the hardest and I'm not sure if I'm really happy this one and the epilogue turned out … well, it's up to you to decide.

“You do know, that this was a stupid move, right?”

 

“Uhhm .... yeah? Maybe? How so?

 

“Because I will move my queen here and then you are screwed. Checkmate, my friend.” Richard couldn't suppress a mischievous smile. Aidan let himself fall back into his pillows and sighed frustrated. “I'll never get that game. How can you think so many moves ahead? My brain stops at two, tops.”

 

“You have to think more strategically. Like a field commander or something.”

 

“Thank god I'm only an actor. My troops would be really fucked up.”

 

“Oh yes, they would. You would never win a single battle. Want a rematch?”

 

“No, thanks. I think I'll pass. I'm really tired right now and my brain is all fuzzy. Too much thinking, you know? I'm not used to it.”

 

“Jackass. But, you're right. You should get some rest. Dean's coming to take me home in about twenty minutes, but I don't mind waiting for him in the hallway.”

 

“No, please stay. I like your company and I'm bored to tears in that freaking hospital. I can't wait to get out of here ...”

 

“You will be released soon, I'm sure. Only a few more days.”

 

“I really hope so.”

 

Richard saw the desperate look on Aidan's face and understood. Aidan had hated the hospital from day one, and now, more than three weeks later, he grew more and more impatient and frustrated. And while Richard himself had been released after two weeks with a lot of good advice, the recommendation for physiotherapy and and a walking cast, Aidan's healing went a lot slower and not without a few setbacks. He had to fight a bad case of pneumonia for over week, and when he was done with it, the wound on his stomach had begun to fester. He was given antibiotics in a high dosage along with pain medication and anti-inflammatory drugs, that made him tired, dizzy and nauseas. But now, after three weeks of struggling, the doctors were finally content with his recovery.

 

“They will be glad to see the back of you, I'm sure. They won't keep you any longer”, Richard tried to sound confident, although he thought the young man still looked weak and exhausted. But he also knew, that the stay in the hospital did not help to improve his condition.

 

“And I'm sure, you will feel much better once you're back home”, he added assuringly.

 

Aidan looked doubtfully at best, biting his bottom lip and rubbing his forehand with shaky hands.

 

“Yeah, sure. I mean, I can't wait to get out of here, but … uhhmm … how are you doing on your own? How are you taking care of everything? I mean, there's cooking, doing laundry, cleaning up, physiotherapy … right now, I need to rest after walking up and down the hallway, and I have no idea how I should be able to do grocery shopping soon.”

 

_Oh, that..._

 

Richard chuckled lightly. He knew exactly what was bothering the young one. But it was one of the conveniences when you were working for the god of directing, Mr. Peter Jackson. Since Richard got home from the hospital, Peter made sure he was as comfortable as possible. A very resolute middle aged lady came on a daily basis and ran the house for him. Jackson also sent a driver to take him to his regular physiotherapy sessions, doctor appointments and hospital visits. He had to take care of nothing. He had to worry for nothing. He could only focus on healing and getting better.

 

“And so will you, Aidan”, he told the young man warmly. “You do not need to worry. Peter promised, he would do everything he can to help you to get back on your feet. As soon as the doctors set a date for your release he will make the arrangements.”

 

“Wow, that's … wow. I don't know what to say. But I can't accept that, can I? That would be too much, won't it? I mean ….” Aidan blushed like a little girl, obviously embarrassed for needing so much help.

 

“Aidan, stop it. It's fine. Peter won't mind. He's so happy that you're going to make a full recovery, he would do anything for you. And if you need company, well … we could still play chess together. You need way more practice.”

 

It was weird. Really weird. If anybody had told Richard a month ago that he would suggest spending time with Aidan by choice, he would have doubted his mental health. And now? He had to admit that he was enjoying the other ones company. Talking to him was easy – and fun as well. And since he got over his presumption, that Aidan was beautiful but dumb, he really liked to hear Aidan's opinion of certain things. It was completely different from his own point of view, but the more he tried to go with Aidan's arguments the more he found them reasonable.

He liked laughing with Aidan, talking to Aidan or – sometimes sitting quietly beside him and just being there.

 

Had Aidan changed? Not so much, Richard thought. Maybe he was a bit quieter, more measured and … well … grown up? But maybe he had been all that long before and Richard had been just unable to see it. Maybe it was Richard, that had changed? He did not really know and he could not put a finger on it. It did not matter anyhow. Fact was, he had grown fond of the young man – and he felt god with it. He had no idea how this could happen, but he definitely did not want to question it.

 

He just snapped out of his thoughts, when he realized, that Aidan was talking to him: “... and I really miss a good smoke.”

 

 _And here, ladies and gentleman, is Aidan Turner, the one that deserves a smack to his stupid head._ _Obviously he hasn't changed so much._

 

Aloud he said: “You want WHAT? Are you out of your fucking mind? You can barely take deep breaths without choking, you just battled pneumonia, your lung is still healing and you're seriously talking about a smoke? Did you not spend enough time in the hospital? Do you really wanna fuck up the job, the doctors did on you? How stupid are you? …” He simply could not stop yelling at Aidan and telling him how stupid, reckless and irresponsible he was acting. He just wanted to smack him.

 

“Hey, stop it”, Aidan gasped. “Jesus, I was just kidding. I'm pretty sure if I had a smoke right now, it would instantly kill me. I was just teasing you and I wanted to wipe that constant worried look off your face. I'm sorry.” He tried an apologetic smile, but failed. In fact, he looked rather guiltily.

 

Richards features softened a bit, but only a bit. “You have to work on your jokes, you know. But maybe I … overreacted a little bit.”

 

Aidan nodded slightly. “Maybe. But it's fine. I'm fine, by the way. You don't have to worry so much. I can take care of myself.”

 

“I know, and you're right, of course. You're an adult and I know, it's none of my business, but …” Richard sighed again. “I know, it's crazy, but sometimes I can't help it. I just want you to be safe. And your smoking doesn't help.”

 

“You want to protect me from being stupid.” Aidan chuckled. “That's very sweet of you and I appreciate the effort, but it's kind of fruitless, isn't it? I mean, that's just, what I am, right?”

 

“You're not stupid. You're a smoker. But well, maybe that makes you a little bit stupid.”

 

“Well, that's pretty much what I just said, right? It's what I am. And as much as I want to change that myself, … I don't want you to turn me into a person I am not”, Aidan stated.

 

“I don't understand...”, Richard replied, but there already was a glimmer of what Aidan really meant.

 

“Listen, Richard”, Aidan sat up a bit more and glanced directly at Richard. “I don't want you to feel obliged to take care of me. And I sure as hell don't want you to feel obliged to be friends with me.

I'm really happy we got to know each other a lot better now, and I grew very fond of you during our time in the car and in the hospital. But I'm still not the person, you want to be friends with. It's still chaotic Aidan versus strict and organized Richard. It's still smoker Aidan versus “man of willpower” Richard. I keep screwing things up, I'm flawed and I always will be. You will not change that. I'll never fit in your concept. I'll always try to become a better person, but I'll never be this perfect human being, because that's not who I am. Please don't try to make me that – because that will fail. I will fail. And the last thing I want, is to fail you.”

 

Aidan's voice was firm, although it sounded al little bit sad. It was a long speech and Richard could see Aidan swallow quite hard. Of course, Aidan was right: He would never fit into Richard's concept of an organized person. It would always be “Hurricane Aidan”. He would still sleep on set, he would still smoke, he would keep losing things, making jokes and smart comments and driving Richard crazy. Only Richard did not care any more.

 

“You already are a better person than I could ever be, Aidan. Because you let the people be the way they are. You are always nice, even to the craziest and most annoying ones. Even to me. You listen to them and make them feel comfortable. I … I could never do that. I'm way too eager. So, if someone has to try to become a better person, it should be me. I realize that.”

 

“Don't. You neither should turn into someone you're not. You're good. Really good. You're Richard fucking Armitage, eager, impatient, disciplined and strict. That is you. But you're also very loyal and nice to the people you call your friends. That counts for something.”

 

“I'd like to call you my friend.”

 

“Even if I'm driving you mad?”

 

“I can't wait for you to do it.”

 

“So … friends it is, right?”

 

“Friends it is.”

 

“I've warned you.”

 

“I know.”

 


	16. Epilogue

_Four months later._

 

“Cut.” Peter nodded approvingly over the brim of his teacup. “Well done, Aidan. But maybe we'll take another one – just to be safe, you know.”

 

Aidan, who had been fighting an imaginary giant spider and fervently begging a non-existent elf for a dagger, was panting and gasping like he had ran a marathon. His breathing was laboured and he moved like he was being dragged down by his clothes alone. Richard saw him shake his head, his face a bit too pale under the make-up, and walk away from the set.

 

“Aidan?” Peter's surprised voice echoed from his tent. “Aidan?”

 

When Aidan collapsed on a nearby chair, Richard sprang to his side instantly, eyes widened in full blown alarm.

 

“Are you okay? Can I get you something? Do you need to lie down?” He grabbed the bottle of water one of the assisting girls was about to offer Aidan, opened the lid an pressed it firmly in Aidans trembling hands.

 

“Here, come on, take a sip.”

 

“Is everything alright, Aidan?” This was Peter, who finally came out of his tent to check in on his actor. “Sorry, if I pushed you too ....”

 

“How could you do that, Pete?” Richard let himself carried away by his anger and worry. He still heard Aidans heavy breaths, still a too strong reminder of the wheezing noises he had to listen to in that freaking car wreck months ago. “The boy is hardly healed and you let him fight spiders for like a gazillion times? What is wrong with you?”

 

“Hey, hey, relax, man.” Two men, one sentence. Peter and Aidan said the same words at the same time, nut it was Aidan who continued.

 

“It's fine, really. I'm fine. I just got a little bit dizzy at that last shot. But I'm good, I promise. I just need a little break, okay? You don't have to worry, Rich, and you, Pete, don't have to apologize. I'll be back in five, okay?” Aidan anxiously looked from Richard to Peter, obviously not comfortable with being the centre of attention.

 

Nevertheless Peter gave him an apologetic smile and squeezed his shoulder. “Make it fifteen, okay, Aidan? And I really am sorry. I keep forgetting, for how long you were out.”

 

When Peter left the scene, Richard let out a deep sigh.

 

“Shit, buddy, I'm sorry... still overreacting a little bit ...”

 

“Obviously. So … that's our new normal? Instead of yelling at me, you're going all nuts when I'm running out of air?”

 

“Do you prefer the yelling? I guess I can do that.” Richard smiled meekly.

 

“Nah, guess, I'm good. I kind of like 'new' Richard”.

 

“'New' Richard?”

 

“Yeah, you know, the nice one. The one, who's gentle, caring and protective.”

 

“So old Richard was an arse?” Richard asked teasing the young man.

 

“Not more of an arse as old Aidan was”, the young actor replied, grinning broadly.

 

“I guess then, we both reached a whole new level.”

 

“I guess, we did.”

 

So … 'new' normal, it is?

 

“New normal it is.”

 

And it was good.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really want to thank you all for reading this whole story and being patient with me. Also thank you for your kind comments – they made my day every time.


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